


Hermione Granger, Esq.

by potionseagle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Courtroom Drama, POV Hermione Granger, Politics, Post-Hogwarts, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionseagle/pseuds/potionseagle
Summary: When Hermione decided to become a lawyer, Lucius Malfoy was not who she had in mind for a client.





	1. Best Man

It had been a long day at the office for Hermione Granger. Shortly after the war, Hermione discovered that there was no wizarding-world equivalent to a public defender’s office, which, in hindsight, made Sirirus’s abominable treatment make much more sense. Horrified, Hermione immediately brought up the situation with Kingsley. Two months later and she was leading the new Wizarding Public Defender’s Office that had a major influx of cases dealing with war crimes. It hadn’t been her first choice of career, but her fierce sense of justice would not let her turn away those in need of a defense, and it was clear that the only reason this office was being opened was because of her status as one of the golden trio. If she didn’t agree to lead it, there would be no office at all.

Kingsley gave her a laughable staff of two to handle the mountain of cases: Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones. Despite their small number, they mostly managed. Neville was determined to prove himself and Susan knew quite a bit about procedure and custom from her late aunt, Amelia Bones. When Hermione had a question that wasn’t in a book (which always disappointed her a bit), she went to Susan. Although it had been a year and a half since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the war, there was still plenty of work to be done. Trials took time, especially when there were so many of them.

Hermione walked into the door of her flat, greeted first by Crookshanks and then by the sight of Harry and Draco, fully clothed but horizontal on her and Harry’s couch. “Ahem,” Hermione said in her best Dolores-Umbridge voice.

Harry and Draco sat up and started smoothing out their robes. “Hi, Hermione, didn’t expect you so soon,” Harry said casually.

“Harry, it’s nine o’clock. I’m late,” Hermione replied, but in an exasperated rather than in an annoyed tone. She had been least surprised of anyone when Harry and Draco announced their relationship. As a keenly observant person, she knew there was more to Harry’s obsessive following of Draco in their sixth year. With Cho, he had always hung back, but with Draco, he was practically a stalker.

“When are you two lovebirds going to get your own place?” Hermione asked more out of teasing than anything else. She knew she would miss Harry dearly when he moved away. Harry was probably the only person she could forgive for leaving his dirty socks hanging on the back of the chair or always leaving the kitchen with the smell of something burning. She had considered looking for another roommate when he inevitably moved out, but she knew that anyone else would just drive her insane and vice versa.

“Hermione, dear, you know how traditional my mother is,” Draco replied in his characteristic drawl. “I’ll take Harry off your hands after the wedding.” Draco continued, squeezing his fiancee’s hand. Draco and Harry were recently engaged, and from the sounds of it, Narcissa was planning quite the pureblood wedding. Although there was some supposed disappointment on her end that Draco was marrying a halfblood, she said she “couldn’t be too disappointed” that her only son was marrying the Chosen One. Anyone could tell how thrilled Narcissa was, though, despite what she said. She had been extremely fond of Harry ever since he saved Draco during the Battle of Hogwarts, and the feeling was mutual as Narcissa saved Harry, as well.

“Actually, I think Harry has something he wants to ask you.” Draco leaned back on their couch, giving Harry a pointed look.

“Well, now is maybe not the best time,” Harry muttered, refusing to make eye contact with either of them, “Hermione just got back from work.”

“Harry, tell me what’s going on,” Hermione replied in her signature bossy voice, crossing her arms and jutting her hip out to complete the effect.

“Well, I have good news and bad news.” Draco laughed at Harry’s nervousness.

“Bad news first. Bad news always comes first.”

“I was hoping you might do us a favor. As you know, Lucius Malfoy’s trial is coming up in just two weeks, and his lawyer was arrested today, so… you’re a lawyer.”

“Brilliant observation, Harry,” Hermione responded dryly. She did not like where this was going.

“Well--”

Draco cut Harry off. “Hermione, you’re not just a lawyer, you’re the best damn lawyer we know, and the bottom line is we really need you to take over Father’s defense.”

Hermione groaned. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Draco.”

He chuckled darkly in response. “Experience has taught me differently, Hermione. In all seriousness, I don’t know who else will take the case this late. His hearing is in two weeks. We’ve already tried to push it back, but they want to make an example out of him. I know he hasn’t been the best guy, but he doesn’t deserve to spend the rest of his life behind bars. Please.” Draco’s gray eyes were pleading.

“Well…”

Draco shoved Harry and whispered something in his ear.

“Don’t you want to hear the good news, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Sure,” Hermione responded, annoyed. How easy did they think she was to manipulate?

“I want you to be my best man.”

Hermione couldn’t contain her squeal and before she knew it her arms were wrapped around Harry. “What? What about Ron?” She choked out. And then: “Is this only so I will represent Lucius?

“No!” Harry exclaimed. “I had already decided this, but we might have decided to tell you tonight for… reasons.” Draco was shaking his head next to Harry.

“I can’t believe the Hat ever considered you for Slytherin,” Draco muttered.

“Look, Hermione, I suggested Harry should tell you tonight. He wanted you to be best man, anyway. As for Ron, there was no way in hell I’m letting that weasel in our wedding when he doesn’t approve.” Draco spat the last part out, and Harry put a comforting arm around him. Ron had been less than thrilled at the news that Harry and Draco were an item, not able to look past the Malfoy name or Draco’s past. He had begrudgingly accepted them, but still wasn’t as happy for Harry as Hermione was.

“He approves,” Hermione responded softly, joining Harry in rubbing Draco gently. This eventually turned into a large group hug. Then, the two of them started to stare at Hermione with puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Hermione said, exasperated. “It’s not fair when you gang up on me.” Her voice was muffled under the weight of them both hugging her again, but they understood. She saw their matching lopsided grins as she let go of the pair of them.


	2. How Does It Feel

Neville was white as a sheet. “But-- but--”

“Neville, you’re going to have to attend a hearing sometime. That’s our job,” Hermione responded, only half paying attention to him as she drank her morning tea and read over files from Lucius’s previous lawyer’s office. She also took a bite out a delicious scone Luna brought in. The serene blonde could often be found around their offices before her work started in the morning, bringing various scones with strange flavor combinations that shouldn’t work, but did. Today it was basil and lemon curd.

“Why can’t Susan go?” Neville asked.

“Neville, you did all the prep work for this case, you are the most logical choice, and I don’t have time to review the material and go myself. Lucius’s hearing is in sixteen days; two weeks from Wednesday.”

“Well…”

Susan cut in, and Hermione could hear the eye roll from her tone alone. “Neville, you fought a war, I think you can present the case you’ve been working on for weeks at a hearing.”

“Exactly. Thanks for the backup, Susan.”

“No problem at all. Besides, you have other matters to attend to.”

“True,” Hermione groaned and Susan laughed darkly in response.

“It can’t be the worst thing to have to work so closely with who _Witch Weekly_ calls one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain.” Susan commented, but there was an edge to her tone. Now it was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes.

“I would hardly call a divorcee stuck behind bars eligible.”

“He is a very handsome wizard,” Luna cut in.

“Luna,” Hermione exclaimed, finally looking up from her work and setting down her tea on a moving picture of Lucius Malfoy. “He’s a Death Eater.”

Luna looked unperturbed. “I know. I was merely commenting on his appearance.”

Neville cleared his throat. “Well, we should let you prepare…”

“Let me know if you have any questions, Neville, or if you want to practice.” Neville nodded and practically ran out of the room, prompting a laugh from Hermione.

* * *

 

“Ms. Granger,” a voice said quizzically. Zacharias Smith had become an Azkaban guard after their time as Hogwarts, and was the guard who currently greeted her as he read over her papers confirming that she was Lucius’s lawyer and that she had authorization to visit him. “I thought you were going into…” He paused for effect in a way that she associated with the House of Snakes. “...public defense.” His mouth curled into a half-smile, half-sneer. Not for the first time, Hermione idly wondered if the Sorting Hat was asleep when it sorted him.

“Zacharias, darling,” Hermione used his first name intentionally to remind him who held the power out of the two of them. “You may well recall that I started the Wizarding Public Defender’s Office. I am merely doing a favor for a friend.”

“Nepotism. How charming,” Zacharias responded, unlocking the door behind him and leading her down a black stone passageway. She had visited Azkaban countless times before, and was exceedingly familiar with its passageways and its guards.

When she came upon the room set up for her visit, she couldn’t help but suck in a nervous breath. She was expecting a fading man, but instead she found the same pureblood patriarch she had met numerous times over the years. His hair was more wiry than it normally was, and his skin was taut, evidence of a refusal or inability to eat. The effect was infuriating: strips of platinum blond hair cut against his even-more-prominent cheekbones, making him look even more attractive than usual. Hermione inwardly cursed Luna, of all people, for getting into her head.

She sat in a chair across from Lucius. He didn’t have his wand, and was bound to his own chair, but he still had impeccable posture and the classic Malfoy sneer.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione began. “I’m not sure if Draco told you, but I will be representing you.”

“I am well aware, Ms. Granger,” Lucius spoke in a drawl. Although it was similar to his son’s, Lucius’s voice had no teasing in it.

She nodded in response. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been going through Mr. Bole’s notes on your case, and I had a few questions, so I wanted to start there, unless you have any questions for me.”

Lucius was drumming his long, pale fingers on the metal of his chair. “I do have one question.”

“Yes?”

“How does it feel?”

“Excuse me?”

“How does it feel? To know that my fate is in your hands now?” There was no menace in his tone; in fact, his voice was velvety smooth and betrayed no emotion, but Hermione still swallowed nervously. Needless to say, it was not the question she had expected. And somehow, despite the fact that he was bound and wandless, she felt a shiver of fear run down her spine.

“Mr. Malfoy, I assure you that I am a professional. I would not have taken your case if I didn’t feel I could represent you. I have represented countless--”

Lucius cut her off. “That’s not what I asked you. I have every confidence that your Gryffindor sense of justice won’t fail me. I want to know how it feels.” He leaned back slightly, intently studying Hermione.

Hermione stopped looking down at her papers, lifting her chin up and looking straight into his dark gray eyes. “I wasn’t happy about the idea of representing you, but I will admit that it feels wonderful to have the tables turned. Though I don’t know why you would remind me of the last time we met, with me writhing on the floor and you doing nothing. It doesn’t exactly spur me to pull all nighters.”

Lucius smirked at her response. “Who knew you could take such delight in other’s displeasure. I must admit I’ve been rather fascinated by the Gryffindor who sent that horrid Umbridge woman to such a nasty fate in the Forbidden Forest.”

Hermione frowned. She hadn’t thought about that in a while. “I did what was necessary.”

“And then some. Were you disappointed that she made her way out?”

“Of course not!”

“I am not judging you, Ms. Granger. I understand more than anyone the lengths we go to to protect our family, and it’s my understanding that you and Mr. Potter are the closest thing to family either of you has left.”

“I wouldn’t advise you to remind me of my parents right now, Mr. Malfoy.” She could feel the anger rise up in her at his words, but suppressed it. “I didn’t think I needed to remind you of the precarious position that you’re in, but we need to prepare for your defense.”

“Do we need to go through my case again, Ms. Granger? I’ve already reviewed all of the charges with my lawyer, and I can see you have all the notes.”

“I am your lawyer now, and frankly, Mr. Bole was not very thorough. Perhaps if you hadn’t been intent on hiring a pureblood, your defense would be in better shape.”

“I didn’t see you offering up your services,” Lucius responded smoothly.

“I’m a public defender. This may surprise you, Lucius, but I am not the only muggle-born lawyer.”

“And this may surprise you, you insufferable girl, but I contacted several muggle-born lawyers. All of them gleefully turned me down. Would you be here, public defender or not, if it weren’t two weeks away from my trial and my son didn’t beg you to do this?”

“Draco didn’t beg,” was Hermione’s only response. Lucius raised an eyebrow. “Harry did that for him. Now, I am trying to keep things professional, but I will not be called ‘insufferable girl’ by my client.”

Lucius huffed in response to that. “This situation is absurd.”

“We are in agreement, then. Can we call a truce for the next two weeks or are you more interested in insulting me than ever seeing the outdoors again?”

Lucius nodded nearly imperceptibly. “A truce, then.”

* * *

 

“So, how did things go with my dear old dad?” Draco was asking. Hermione was reprising her favorite role as third wheel at a thank-you dinner with Draco and Harry. Harry had offered to make dinner, and Hermione accepted, knowing full well that meant Kreacher would be cooking.

“Let’s see. He insulted me and essentially told me I was a awful person because I left Umbridge in the forest in our fifth year.”

Harry let out a low whistle and Draco shook his head. “I’m sorry Hermione, I told him to be on his best behavior, but Father isn’t very good at taking direction, especially from his son.”

“He doesn’t seem to be very good at taking it from his lawyer, either,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “We struck a truce, so hopefully our meeting tomorrow goes better and we can actually work on the case.”

“I really appreciate all your hard work, Hermione,” Draco said in a soft voice.

“Of course. I’m the best man, remember?” Hermione replied with a grin. Hermione was interrupted by incessant pecking and turned around to find herself facing a familiar black owl. She groaned as she took the letter and rose to find treats in hopes of stopping the pecking.

“Everything okay, Hermione?” Harry asked, clearly concerned.

“Yes, I’d just forgotten that Viktor is going to be in town this weekend and wants to go to dinner. I really don’t have time right now, so I’ll just have to cancel. I’m sure he’ll understand.” Hermione crossed the room and opened the kitchen drawer to withdraw a quill, ink, and parchment to write her response, not noticing that Draco had taken Krum’s letter from the counter until he began to read aloud.

“Dearest Hermione,” Draco drawled.

“He would never pronounce her name like that, though. More like: Her-my-own.” Harry corrected.

Draco and Hermione both ignored his commentary, Hermione leaping out to retrieve her parchment, which was received by Draco’s laughter and him jumping on top of the couch to escape her reach. She gave up and crossed her arms, giving him a dirty look as he read.

“It has been incredibly difficult to focus on training lately, as I am much more excited about seeing you again than I am for the match on Friday. Every time I see the snitch, I am reminded of your beautiful golden eyes, and your… Oh my, Hermione.” Draco stopped reading where the letter went on to talk about other round body parts. “You definitely have to go. You haven’t gotten properly laid since, when?”

“Last time she kicked me out was when Krum was in town,” Harry offered through a full mouth. He was still sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying his food.

She ignored Harry again. “Why are you trying to convince me to go, Draco? Shouldn’t you want me to spend all weekend on your father’s case?”

Draco laughed, finally handing her the parchment back. “I have no doubt you’ll prove to be a huge overachiever, Hermione. It doesn’t mean your vibrator has to be one, too.” Hermione felt her face grow extremely hot, thoughts straying briefly to her bright orange magical vibrator, which, unlikely muggle vibrators, magically changed settings to suit her perfectly. She cleared her thoughts-- that could wait until later-- and thoroughly scolded Draco for his comment, but she did write back to Viktor keeping their date Saturday. Draco’s point was well taken.

* * *

 

“Good morning, Lucius.” It was late Tuesday morning, and Hermione had decided to try again to have Lucius answer some of her questions.

“Good morning, Ms. Granger. I would prefer if you called me Mr. Malfoy,” he replied in his velvety smooth voice that did not fool her for one minute.

“Must you be difficult?”

“Must you be irritating?” Lucius countered. He scrunched his nose up as he surveyed her breakfast. “What is that?”

“It’s a vanilla scone with olive oil. Luna makes them.” For some reason, his features softened at the mention of Luna. Hermione was reminded of Luna’s comment on his appearance, and felt a twinge of annoyance before she brushed it off. “Her and my coworker are dating, so she comes to our office often.”

Lucius nodded, but he still had a faraway look in his eyes. “And what is that dark beverage?” He asked in a softer voice.

“It’s coffee. It’s a Muggle beverage,” Hermione replied, wondering how Lucius might respond. He simply shrugged.

“It smells divine.” Full of surprises.

“It is. It is also much more effective at keeping you awake than tea, and doesn’t have the side effects of Pepper Up Potion.”

“Have you had trouble sleeping?” Lucius asked. His tone was nonchalant but his eyes were piercing.

“No more than usual,” Hermione responded evasively. There was no reason to talk to Lucius Malfoy about the nightmares she often experienced starring his sister-in-law, or rather ex-sister-in-law. “Let’s talk about your case.” He was still studying her curiously, but nodded his agreement to change to the subject.

“So, harboring Voldemort, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus. I don’t think there’s any way to get around this; there are a lot of witnesses.” Lucius nodded stiffly. “I think the best we can do is argue coercion.” Lucius’s face filled with disgust again.

“I don’t fancy arguing that I was _coerced_ into anything, Hermione,” he said in his trademark snobbish tone.

“So you would like to say that you did everything you were accused of willingly and spend the rest of your life behind bars?”

“Perhaps,” he drawled. She imagined that he would cross his arms were his restraints not holding him back. “Why did you not pinpoint me at the Department of Mysteries battle?” Lucius inquired, staring at her intently again. Merlin, he made her so uncomfortable. And she definitely did not want to discuss this.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean. I didn’t see you,” she responded evasively.

He raised an eyebrow that was so pale that the effect was more discernible from the creases formed on his forehead than the eyebrow itself. “Whether or not you saw my face, Ms. Granger, which I believe you did, you knew I was there, and yet you did not identify me.”

“Are you trying to get another charge added? Hermione asked, exasperated. “I’m finding it difficult to prepare for your case, _Mr. Malfoy,_ when you are more interested in idle chatter.” Lucius finally agreed to let her run through her questions, clarifying ambiguous statements he had made to his lawyer and going over his options for a defense, which would largely be to argue that Voldemort coerced him into most of his actions, though Hermione doubted anyone would believe that with his haughty demeanor.

Later that night, Hermione let her mind wander. Why didn’t she identify Lucius at the Department of Mysteries? It was a question she had asked herself several times, but could never satisfactorily answer. It wasn’t Lucius; she easily incriminated him when talking about who was present for her torture at the Manor, despite the fact that he seemed much more dejected then. Perhaps it was because he had already been punished enough for his failure that night, which she suspected was partially due to his reluctance to murder a group of teenagers, despite what he said about concern over breaking the prophecy. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter; her only job now was to prepare for his defense.

* * *

 

The next morning, Hermione arrived at the Ministry through the floo, as she did every day. As she walked into the elevator, she inwardly groaned to see who she was sharing it with: Blaise Zabini. He was the lawyer for the Ministry on Lucius’s case, and she had faced him in court several other times before. He was a formidable opponent, determined to prove his worth after the war.

“Ms. Granger,” he greeted her formally.

“Mr. Zabini,” she responded through tight lips. When the elevator arrived to her floor, she bid him farewell with “I’ll see you in two weeks, then.”

His response was strange. “We’ll see,” he responded cryptically as the elevator doors closed in front of him.

Hermione wondered what on earth Zabini could mean by that, but she didn’t have to wonder for long. As she stepped into her office, she was met with a glum looking Susan.

“Hermione, you’ve a letter,” Susan said, refusing to make eye contact while she extended her left hand with a piece of parchment.

“What is it, Susan?” Susan didn’t respond so Hermione started to read. “How could--” She said aloud. No, that didn’t make sense. She read it again, and then a third time. “Someone was listening to my conversation with Lucius,” Hermione finally concluded.


	3. Coffee

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_It has come to our attention that you are a witness to Mr. Malfoy committing the serious crime of using dark curses on underage witches and wizards during the Department of Mysteries Battle. In light of this new information, we cannot allow you to proceed as Mr. Malfoy’s counsel in his upcoming trial. Mr. Malfoy will be informed of this development contemporaneously. Please direct any questions to Miranda Bagshot, Head of Magical Law Enforcement._

_Sincerely,_

_Miranda Bagshot_

_Head of Magical Law Enforcement_

            “Someone was listening,” Hermione repeated, more to herself than to Susan.

            “How do you know?” Susan’s voice was hesitant.

            “We just discussed this yesterday. He accused me of seeing him at the Department of Mysteries Battle. There was no objection before to my representing him, and now I get this letter? Something is going on and I am going to find out what it is.” She didn’t wait for Susan’s response before stalking off, her feet leading her to the Ministry library before her mind even registered where she was going.

            Hermione spent the rest of the morning researching methods of eavesdropping. Unfortunately, there were a multitude of methods. Still, she took detailed notes on each. She reluctantly left at lunch and stepped outside for a quick sandwich. She ate it as she walked toward her office, spending the afternoon drafting a motion to reconsider based on the fact that she did not see Lucius clearly at the battle, and she certainly did not see him perform any spells, let alone dark curses in particular.

            On a hunch, she rifled through the public records on the case against Lucius’s lawyer, as well as old editions of the _Prophet._ Bole was arrested for gambling with minors, a charge that was likely true but was an extremely common practice during the Quidditch World Cup, which is when this incident had allegedly occurred. The Quidditch World Cup, though, was months ago. Arresting him two weeks before Lucius’s trial was seeming like less and less of a coincidence.

* * *

 

            “What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry asked before Hermione had a chance to take off her shoes.   

            Hermione gave him a small smile and a long sigh. “What gave me away?” Her voice came out somewhere between a groan and a whine.

            “Well, it’s—” Harry hesitated, as though unsure if he should continue.

            “Yes, Harry?” Hermione snapped, knowing it was wrong to take out her irritation on Harry but not caring too much.

            “Your skirt is on backward,” Harry continued, his voice muffled as he disappeared into the kitchen.

            Hermione looked down at her skirt. The bright silver zipper was prominently displayed right down her middle. She plopped onto the couch, not bothering to fix her skirt. She took off her shoes slowly, and then proceeded to stare at the wall until Harry returned with two glasses of wine. She looked up at him, not having the energy to talk, but she did take the stem of the glass he held out to her and took an unladylike gulp.

            “Godric, Harry, this is delicious. What is it?” Hermione immediately knew Harry didn’t pour her wine as she only bought fairly cheap bottles—never the cheapest, but not far above, either. She also always bought the same three wines, and this was not in that group.

            “It’s one of Draco’s expensive bottles.” Seeing Hermione’s facial expression, Harry shrugged. “He has enough. It seemed like an appropriate occasion.”

            “Where is your light-haired counterpart, anyway?” Hermione asked, realizing that their apartment was one wizard short.

            Harry shrugged. “Something with his dad. He just mumbled something and ran off. Is that why you’re upset, too?”

            “I don’t know if I would say I’m upset,” Hermione protested. “It’s just been a long day at work.”

            “Okay, tired, then. What’s happened at work?”

            “Something with Lucius, like you said.”

            “Lucius?” Harry asked, chuckling.

            “Mr. Malfoy, then. They’ve taken me off the case.”

            Harry responded by filling her wine glass that she had already polished off.

            “What are you going to do?”

            “Well, I’ve already filed some papers arguing that I didn’t witness Mr. Malfoy commit any serious crimes, but I don’t know if it will work. Something is going on. I received this letter right after I talked with Mr. Malfoy about seeing him at the battle. And I looked into his last lawyer; the allegations against him were probably true, but the arrest is suspiciously close to Lucius’s trial.”

            “So you think there’s some kind of conspiracy against Draco’s dad?”

            “I know it sounds crazy—“

            Harry sat up straight and looked her straight in the eyes with a look she hadn’t seen in years. For a moment, it felt like they were right in the middle of the war again. “Hermione, it doesn’t sound crazy. Tell me what you know.”

            “That’s mostly it,” Hermione admitted, exasperated. “I spent most of the day working on this motion to stay his lawyer and researching methods of eavesdropping.”

            “What did you find?”

            “There are a lot. I think I can rule out the potions, since those would be more difficult to use; there are also spells, but they are rather complicated.”

            “I bet Zabini has something to do with this.”

            “Harry,” Hermione replied, exasperated, “do you have any reason to think he’s behind this? Or is it because he’s a Slytherin?”

            “Hermione, it is not just because he’s a Slytherin. He’s obsessed with beating you. This is just the kind of underhanded play he would do.”

            “You think that because he’s a Slytherin,” Hermione repeated. “Harry, this is Snape all over again. Zabini has always been above board. There’s no reason to think it’s him.”

            “You’re wrong to rule him out,” Harry insisted.

            “I’m not ruling anyone out,” Hermione replied, reaching for the bottle and shattering her glass of wine on the way. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment and muttered _Reparo_ before continuing as though nothing had happened. “I’m just not jumping to conclusions.”

            “So what’s the plan? And how can I help?”

            “Now that was what I was hoping you were going to ask,” Hermione half-slurred, grinning mischievously.

* * *

 

            Hermione was in a significantly cheerier mood the next day. Having a plan was always comforting. She felt confident that her motion would get through, and now was focused on making sure that her conversations with Lucius became private again. Otherwise, she would have to keep him in the dark about their strategy, which would not help his case. The wizarding world had an archaic legal system that forced the accused to testify, so her and Lucius needed to be on the same page, or at least, needed to be on the same page about his defense. Even that would be asking a lot.

            She was working on a second letter to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement requesting a decision immediately when Luna came into her office bearing scones.

            “Luna,” she greeted, smiling. “You have been a lifesaver this week. I didn’t even think to get breakfast this morning.”

            “I like making them,” Luna said in a dreamy voice, not making eye contact with Hermione, looking instead at her handiwork. “And I like to see Neville in the mornings. But he’s not here today.”

            “I’m sure he’s on his way,” Hermione said, already distracted by her work once more.

            Luna hummed. “I saw the _Prophet_ this morning,” she commented. “Is it true you’re not working on Mr. Malfoy’s case?”

            Hermione groaned and looked up from her work to meet Luna’s comforting blue eyes. “No. They did kick me off the case, but I’m determined to get back on it. Between you and me, I think someone is sabotaging it.”

            “My father says the Ministry is still very corrupt. There was a very good article in the last _Quibbler_ about how the Ministry is working to collect unicorn blood.”

            Hermione nodded, taking a bite out of her scone. “I’ll have to check that out,” Hermione mumbled absent-mindedly. “Anyway, I should back to this, but thank you again, Luna.”

            “Good luck, Hermione.”

            A few minutes later, an owl started pecking at her window. She smiled at the familiar figure of Harry’s gray owl and opened her window to let her in. The owl affectionately nibbled on her finger, and Hermione gave it treats she kept in her office for her favorite bird. _Right on time_ , she thought to herself, _that’s a first_.

            Hermione had asked Harry the night before if he would talk to Kingsley about permission for her to visit Lucius, which she currently did not have because she was not his lawyer or a family member. Harry obtained it, easily she was sure. Being Harry Potter did have its benefits.

            Hermione took the letter of approval from Kingsley and parchment she had written on earlier for this purpose, along with some blank parchment and quills just in case. She went to their small office kitchen and made a pot of coffee; even after various hangover cures she had learned largely from George, she had a wicked headache. She poured herself a cup and, on second thought, poured a second.

            When she reached the familiar stone walls of Azkaban, she took a deep breath before charging in. Her favorite guard was there to greet her as usual.

            “Ms. Granger,” Zacharias drawled. “How can I help you today?” He smiled with his too-wide smile that always seemed to her to be a device to show off his unusually sharp teeth rather than an expression of delight.

            “I’m here to see Mr. Malfoy.”

            Zacharias smiled wider, pulling out a copy of the _Prophet_ and opening it to the second page, which bore a headline that read _Infamous Death Eater Lucius Malfoy Without A Lawyer; Hearing Less Than Two Weeks Away._ He simply displayed the paper, waiting for her response.

Hermione returned his insincere smile. “I know, it’s a terrible headline, isn’t it? But I should have been more clear. I have explicit permission from Kingsley—sorry, the Minister. Old habits,” Hermione added with a fake laugh.

            Zacharias looked considerably more irritated, reading over the paper she passed to him a few times before deciding that it was legitimate. “I will show you the way, Ms. Granger.”

            “So kind of you, Zacharias,” Hermione replied before struggling to follow his brisk pace through the halls of the prison.

            “Here we are,” Zacharias said, showing her to an empty room. “I’ll collect the prisoner.”

            Despite the fact that Zacharias was pulling him by his shackles, Lucius entered with his usual grace. He looked momentarily startled when he saw Hermione—clearly Zacharias hadn’t told him who was visiting—but quickly recovered, taking his seat. After making sure that Lucius was securely tied to the chair, Zacharias left the room.

            _“Muffliato,”_ Hermione whispered immediately.

            “What are you—“ Lucius started to ask, but Hermione held her finger up to her lips. He looked quite annoyed with her, but nevertheless stopped midsentence. Where others might have looked at her impatiently or gestured to her to explain, Lucius merely stared straight ahead as though he were inspecting her.

            Hermione held up the parchment she had written earlier this morning. It detailed her suspicions, the motion she filed, and her hope that Snape’s spell would protect their conversations. There wasn’t much research on the issue as his spell was not widely disseminated, so she wanted to test out her theory by discussing something untrue with Lucius to see if the Ministry contacted either of them about it. Since it would be unfounded, it would be quickly dismissed for lack of evidence, but it would provide her with crucial information on how private her communications were. She had been busy this morning, so she simply wrote on the parchment that it should be something illegal but believable. She trusted the sneaky Slytherin across from her to come up with a lie quickly.

            First, though, they needed to quickly recover and act like everything was normal so that their audience would trust them, if they were listening. So, as Hermione held up the parchment for Lucius to read over, she idly talked about Draco and Harry’s wedding until it looked as if he were finished.

            He nodded seriously before breaking into his signature Malfoy smirk. “Are one of those beverages for me?” He inquired after Hermione finished her sentence about flower arrangements.

            “Yes. You had said you liked the smell, so I thought you might want to try it. If a muggle beverage is below you, though, then…” She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

            Lucius stared back at her. “I’ll just drink both then,” Hermione huffed.

            “Ms. Granger,” Lucius drawled, still smirking. “It is difficult to reach from this position.”

            Hermione’s mouth formed a small “o” before she slid the coffee toward Lucius. “Do you have enough room to drink?” She asked in a nervous voice. Why did she feel so nervous? Part of her felt like Harry for assuming the worst of Lucius. _No, you have every reason to_ , Hermione reasoned with herself, _you aren’t making assumptions based on his House. You’re making assumptions based on the way he’s treated you, and what’s he’s called you. Mudblood._

“I can manage from here, thank you,” Lucius replied in his silky voice. He sounded a notch less haughty than normal. He took a long sip, seeming to seriously consider the taste.

            “So? What do you think?”

            “It’s quite bitter,” Lucius observed, “almost like tea that has been steeped too long.”

            Hermione laughed. “It definitely has more of a kick to it.”

            “And you like that? That kick, as you call it?”

            “I do. I like tea, too, but there’s something about coffee. The smell always reminds me of home. My parents used to brew it every morning. Even though I wasn’t allowed to have any, I would smell it while I ate breakfast.”

            “Why couldn’t you have any?”

            “There’s this myth that coffee stunts your growth.”

            Lucius raised an eyebrow at that and looked down at the dark beverage curiously.

            “So,” Hermione said after a long pause. Lucius seemed perfectly at ease when their conversation lulled; Hermione wondered if that was a result of being stuck in Azkaban or if it was a trait he had always possessed. “Perhaps we should move on to why I came to see you today?” She pointed at the parchment on the table.

            “You want to make sure that our sexual history remains a secret,” Lucius said with a straight face and his characteristic drawl. His haughty tone was back in full force. _Sexual relationship?!_ That certainly checked one of the boxes: unethical, as he had been her client. It was enough to ensure that she could not be his lawyer. But believable? Definitely not.

            She gave Lucius a furious look that she generally only reserved for close friends when they insisted on acting like children, but tried to compose herself enough that her voice was even when she responded. “Exactly, Lucius,” she said in a breathy voice. _If you are going to choose this out of all the options you could have chosen, I get to use your first name, you prat._

“Don’t worry, Ms. Granger. I am very discreet, as you already know.”

            “Lucius, no one’s listening. There’s no need to be so formal,” Hermione wasn’t happy with his choice of made-up story, but he could at least play the part.

            “But I thought you liked it when I called you Ms. Granger,” he responded in a seductive tone. _Trust him to know how to explain away calling her by her last name_. Even worse, she could feel her body responding to his silky voice. _He really does have a nice voice... Merlin, Draco was right. I really need to see Krum this weekend._ It didn’t help that Lucius was staring at her as though he knew exactly what she looked like naked. She wanted to slap him and remind him that no one was watching, only listening. Part of her also wanted to… _This is Lucius Malfoy! Focus._

“True, Lucius. Very true. Thank you for seeing me and reassuring me. I really should get back to work, though. We wouldn’t want just anyone representing you.”

            “Only the best for a Malfoy,” Lucius responded, looking as though he were struggling to keep from smiling.

            “I’ll see you soon.” Hermione gathered up her papers and coffee quickly, leaving without looking back.


	4. The Dream

Hermione was in her white-walled bedroom with a familiar Quidditch player. She was thinking to herself that it had reached the point in the night where it was approximately time for them to have sex; they had sat on her bed awkwardly for a while, which was usually when Viktor lunged in. True to form, she saw his face heading for hers and closed her eyes in automatic anticipation of his kiss that was always just on the other side of too moist.

Instead, though, Hermione felt him suck on her lower lip momentarily before trailing kisses along her jawline, nibbling her earlobe just slightly as he reached it. Slender fingers threaded underneath her hair while the kisses continued down her neck. Hermione let out a moan when he bit her unexpectedly. "Godric, I love your kisses."

"I know you do, Ms. Granger." The voice was sultry and velvety smooth. Although it didn't belong to Viktor, she knew it from somewhere.

Hermione opened up her eyes lazily and stretched while processing her dream. The contents hit her all at once causing her to spring up. Hermione spent a moment trying to deny to herself that she knew whose voice that was, but it was fruitless. She had obviously just had a dream about Lucius Malfoy that was strictly not case-related.

_This is not weird. This is because you and Lucius just talked about your pretend sexual relationship. But… this wasn't very sexual. It was almost sweet._

Hermione looked over at her analog clock and grunted in frustration. She was very, very late. Not only had she had a disturbing dream about someone twice her age, but it had caused her to sleep in. (She never bothered setting her alarm unless she had an important appointment; her internal clock was excellent).

Hermione quickly got dressed. At first she pulled out one of her favorite shirts and then flung it in the corner angrily, choosing her least favorite shirt instead. It was old, didn't quite fit, and most importantly, thoroughly covered her. _I am not trying to impress Lucius Malfoy_ , she said to herself like a mantra before she also chose a pair of pale pink granny panties and checkered gray trousers that would be better described as a tent.

She looked at her hair in the mirror; it was a bush. Although after Hogwarts Hermione learned a few simple spells to tame her mane of hair, she didn't bother using any of them this morning.

* * *

Hermione stopped briefly at her office to see if there were any documents sent over from the Ministry about her slightly-less-fake relationship with Lucius. Her breath caught momentarily as she caught the familiar script of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. It was thankfully not about anything sexual, but instead setting a hearing for the next day regarding Hermione's status as counsel. _Tomorrow!_ Hermione should have expected the Ministry to take her expedite request so literally; now she had almost no time to prepare, but couldn't complain as she requested the hearing to be as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, she absolutely needed to touch base with Lucius about the Department of Mysteries battle before the hearing. Hermione reluctantly headed over to Azkaban to have a hopefully private meeting with her soon-to-be client. There was still the possibility, of course, that no one believed that her and Lucius could have a romantic history, and the even smaller possibility that someone was eavesdropping through a potion (which could potentially have lasted long enough to hear her conversation with Harry). Telling herself that the simplest explanation was usually the correct one, Hermione decided to operate under the assumption that the conversation would be confidential, while exercising appropriate caution just in case.

By the time Hermione arrived at Azkaban, she was still in a slightly irritated mood that was exacerbated by her decision to skip her daily cup of coffee in favor of haste. "Morning, Zacharias. I need to see Lucius Malfoy."

"Hello to you, Ms. Granger. You are looking quite flushed this morning."

"I had a late start. I just ran here," Hermione lied, thoroughly annoyed by his comment.

"Were you running from the wild animal that got caught in your hair?"

Hermione was not in the mood for jokes. Instead of responding immediately, she just stared him down until he looked a little bit scared of her. "Please escort me to the appropriate room, Zacharias. I don't think bantering with you is part of the authorization to obtain access."

"And I don't think you have access to see Mr. Malfoy, considering that you are still no longer his lawyer."

"You are one of the reasons that I think basic subjects need to be taught at Hogwarts, because if you knew how to read, then you would have seen that the authorization from Kingsley lasts until the end of the week." It was a blatant lie, but as she expected, Zacharias didn't question her. Sometimes it paid to have a reputation as a by-the-letter kind of woman.

Zacharias turned a bit red, but didn't say anything as he led her down the hall.

Again, she waited in the small room until her least favorite Hufflepuff escorted the man haunting her subconscious into the room. When Zacharias closed the door, she wasted no time securing the communication. _"Muffliato,"_ Hermione cast immediately before looking up at Lucius with her arms crossed.

"What happened to you, Ms. Granger? Did your closet get swallowed up? Just teasing, of course, darling," he added hurriedly with a dawning of realization on his face. Hermione hadn't told him yet that their conversation was likely private. She thought about messing with him a bit first, but thought it would be better for her sanity not to have Lucius Malfoy pretend to be attracted to her any longer than strictly necessary.

"You can cut the act, Malfoy. It's just us, unless our eavesdropper found the idea of us sleeping together too preposterous. I admit, it's a possibility."

"It's a good thing you weren't wearing that outfit yesterday, or I would say it was more than likely," Lucius quipped, a smirk forming on his perfectly pale— _his forty-something year old face!_ Hermione corrected herself angrily. "And since when am I 'Malfoy'? I thought that was a designation reserved for my son."

"Your son and I have been on a first name basis for a long time, a fact you might be aware of were you not incarcerated for the death and torture of several people." Hermione was in no mood for teasing today; not only was she feeling awful, but she needed to keep this meeting professional, and if she had to be a little bit cold to make that happen, she wasn't above it.

Lucius's expression was no longer playful, which was exactly what she intended. Still, she felt a pang of disappointment that she hid with a huff. "Was that necessary, Ms. Granger? I was under the impression that you were capable of maintaining at least an air of civility," His voice was a cold drawl that made her feel momentarily twelve years old again. He was sitting even more stiffly than usual in his metal chair and his forehead wrinkled slightly from the stern expression on his face. Hermione's arms were still crossed, nails digging into her left arm through the rough material of her shirt.

"I could ask you the same question, Lucius, or did you already forget about your little display yesterday? Out of all the things you could think of, I wonder why you made the choice that you did?" Hermione asked in the same flippant tone she had been using, but she was a little bit curious about his response.

"Did it not meet your specifications, Ms. Granger?" She hated how he answered her question with another one, and how sensual he made a simple word like "specifications" sound. _Two days until Viktor_ , Hermione reminded herself. _And I will not think of Lucius Malfoy when we are kissing!_

"There were several options; I was asking merely how you narrowed them down."

"You gave me little notice." Hermione's eyebrow shot up before she could stop it. _Did Lucius just admit that our having a sexual relationship was the first unethical or illegal thing he could think of?_

"Hmm. Well, we should get back to work. Just in case, I wouldn't reveal any unnecessarily incriminating information."

* * *

Hermione went back to her office midday in a slightly better mood, but still a little irritable and, as much as she hated it, feeling self-conscious about her intentionally subpar outfit choice. When she walked in, Susan was sitting at her desk, writing furiously.

"Susan! Just the person I wanted to see."

Susan laughed heartily. "What do you need, Hermione?"

Hermione slumped like a balloon with the air popped out. "How did you know?"

"You look exhausted and were giving me something resembling pep. It was quite obvious."

"I know you have your own cases, but now that I have to prepare for this hearing just to stay on the case, I really need help preparing for the actual hearing. Will you help, please?" Now Susan looked like the deflated balloon.

"Hermione…" Susan's voice was tentative, which was rare. "You haven't finished reading all of the documents in the case file, have you?"

"Well, no need to rub it in, Susan, but no, I haven't. I've read the fundamentals—basic charges, witness list, that sort of thing."

A flash of anger went across Susan's voice as she muttered something, and then she looked up at Hermione. "I can't work on the case, Hermione. Mr. Malfoy killed my aunt."

"Oh…" Hermione didn't really know what to say to that.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like it would be weird if you took the case, and you're so diligent that I thought you would figure it out almost immediately when you went through everything."

"I haven't been able to—"

"I know," Susan interrupted softly. "I didn't mean it as an insult. Anyway, I can't work on the case." Susan bit her lip nervously before returning to her work without waiting for Hermione's response.

Hermione walked into her office, more than a little bit taken aback from their conversation. Susan was one of her good friends, but she couldn't help but wonder if Susan had anything to do with the letter to the Ministry. Even worse, she had told Susan her suspicions about the letter. What if that's why nothing came out of her and Lucius's conversation yesterday? _What am I going to do about this?_ Hermione told herself that if she considered everyone who had a motive to hurt Lucius as a suspect, she would have to consider nearly everyone she knew. Instead of the comforting effect she intended, thinking about all of the people who might want to punish Lucius just made her more anxious.

She did her best to push all of her concerns out of her head as she prepared for the hearing the next day. _None of these things will even matter if the hearing doesn't go well. Focus._

* * *

Hermione stayed at the office well past five o'clock in the morning, stopping home only for an hour nap, a quick shower, and a change of clothes. The hearing was at nine o'clock the next morning, and Hermione made a point of setting her alarm this time. She arrived half an hour early to pick up her notes at the office before rushing downstairs. Though she wasn't quite as prepared as she liked, but she knew she was still more prepared than the vast majority of lawyers that appeared before the Wizengamot. And it was enough; although one witch dissented, the other witches and wizards hearing her case found in her favor to her great relief. _Now for the real work to begin._

* * *

Exhausted after the all-day hearing, Hermione trudged back to her office, ready to gather up her papers for the weekend and curl up into her bed to cuddle with Crookshanks. As she walked into her dark office, she muttered _Lumos_ and jumped a bit in reaction to the unexpected presence of people in her office.

"Merlin, you two, I could have hexed you."

Ginny and George looked at each other and laughed. "You were right, Gin, she did come back to the office," George commented, ignoring Hermione's presence entirely.

Ginny grinned. "Hermione would never go home for the weekend without stopping by her work."

"This is just the type of responsible behavior I have tried to discourage as someone older and wiser than you," George turned to Hermione, tsk-tsking. "But I can see my efforts so far have been for naught. Don't worry, Hermione, we're not giving up on you. In fact, we're here to kidnap you."

"The only thing that will be kidnapping me is my warm bed," Hermione replied sharply.

"I think Hermione needs a lesson on the meaning of the word kidnapping," George pretend-whispered to Ginny. Ginny laughed in response. After Fred's death, George and Ginny had become closer than ever, spending the majority of their free time together. Percy, much like her, was usually busy with work, while Charlie was often out of the country. Bill was occupied with married life, and Ron (or Won-Won) could normally be found glued to Lavender. Just hours after the battle (and not long after her and Ron had kissed), Hermione found Ron and Lavender snogging near the Great Hall. It hurt at first, but she quickly realized that her and Ron could never work; they were simply too different. Soon after that, Viktor began writing to her again, and she relished in having someone to write to (and privately didn't mind the fact that he required very little effort on her part since she only saw him about once a month).

"Anyway, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I really must get home and rest. I have a lot of work to get through tomorrow," Hermione said in a stern voice.

"Hermione, you need to have a little fun, then you'll be more ready to work tomorrow," Ginny argued.

"Ginny, I really don't think that's how it works."

"Come on, I miss you. I haven't seen you in ages," Ginny pouted a little for effect. The guilt was much more effective.

"One drink," Hermione let up. Ginny and George exchanged wide smiles before they each hooked an arm with hers and pulled her out of the office.

* * *

Several drinks and three bars later, the trio found themselves tumbling out of the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks. Whenever they went out together, they always started in London and inevitably started reminiscing about the Three Broomsticks, deciding for the hundredth time to head there. Luckily, Madam Rosmerta found them more amusing than annoying. They brushed the ashes off of themselves and stumbled up to order, but Madam Rosmerta cut them off immediately. "I'll bring your usuals to you," she said simply, and they nodded and stalked off to an empty table in the corner.

A few minutes later, Hermione downed her firewhisky in one shot. "I had a… dream about Lucius Malfoy," she blurted out, eyes darting back and forth between George and Ginny. Ginny had a curious expression on her face, while George burst out into a full-throated laugh. "Tell me I'm crazy. I need to hear that I'm crazy."

Ginny shrugged. "Who hasn't had a sex dream about Lucius Malfoy? He's very attractive." Hermione's mouth gaped open at Ginny's casual admission, while George started laughing harder, convulsing and hitting the table with his palm. "Ignore him, he's just compensating for the fact that he's clearly also had a sex dream about Lucius Malfoy." George was laughing too hard to respond, tears streaming out of his eyes.

"So, details."

"It was very… tender. We actually didn't have sex," Hermione mumbled in an awkward voice, making eye contact with the knotted wood in their table.

Ginny nodded. "Hmm. Unexpected. So it was a love dream," Ginny stated matter-of-factly.

"Definitely not a love dream." If Hermione had anything in her mouth, she would have spat it out. "I barely know the man."

"I find it interesting that you protest by saying how little you know him. You actually know him quite well; he's been horrible to you over the years. So the fact that that's the reason you give shows me that you actually are starting to like him, at least."

"You really should have been a lawyer, Ginny," Hermione replied in a sulky tone, stroking her empty glass with her finger. "I'm not being very precise. You two kidnapped me and made me drink, remember?"

"Okay, we can stop talking about this, but it doesn't make you right," Ginny replied matter-of-factly. "Let's get you home, grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy," Hermione whined, sending George back into fits of laughter that he had barely recovered from.


	5. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this. Things are a bit crazy for me right now, but I will try to get back to the weekly schedule. :)

The next morning, Hermione groaned as she woke up with a massive headache. She squinted from the morning light and reached over for her wand, closing the offending curtains in her bedroom. Hermione slowly rose, wrapping herself in an emerald terry cloth robe before shuffling off to the kitchen. She passed by a sleeping Slytherin who was half-sitting up with his head slumped over to the right.

There was a piece of parchment along with two clear bottles left on the counter: one with a dark blue liquid and the other with a familiar pale pink potion. George generally left the latter potion after long nights of drinking, as it was his infamous (and effective) hangover tonic that he sold in droves at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. The note said simply, "left the other for dreamless sleep. thought you might need it." The note was completed with a moving obscene drawing. "What a gem," Hermione muttered sarcastically as she nevertheless downed the hangover tonic.

"Hermione, you're here," Draco drawled sleepily. "And you woke me up," he added with a whine.

Hermione turned around and slumped into a comfy armchair while she waited for the potion to take effect. "Well, why are you sleeping on the couch? Harry finally saw the light and kicked you out?"

"No, I was waiting for you to come home, and I guess I must have fallen asleep," Draco replied slowly while he rubbed his neck, wincing slightly.

"Come here, let me help." Draco complied and Hermione muttered a quick spell to relieve his muscle pain. "So why were you waiting up for me?"

"I should be asking where you were," Draco said in what was clearly supposed to be a stern tone, but he was so exhausted that it hardly had that effect. "First I hear that you're no longer representing my father, then I find out about the hearing from Zabini of all people, and you don't even tell me how it goes."

"Ever heard of an owl?" Hermione responded dryly.

"Tell me everything."

"I need coffee first, but it's so far away." Without moving anything but her arm, Hermione made a half-hearted grabbing motion toward the kitchen.

"I'll make you coffee, then I want to hear everything. Deal?"

"Deal, Draco."

After telling him the details about the letter and the hearing, Draco wanted to discuss who might be behind it. "Do you have any idea?"

Hermione frowned, thinking briefly of Susan but dismissing it. She knew that Draco was incapable of being rational on the subject of someone going after his father, and she couldn't blame him, but she didn't want him to go after Susan when she had nothing but a hunch. "Harry seems to think it's Zabini, but you know much more about him than he does. What's your instinct?"

"It's not Zabini. He plays by the rules; he always has. It's why we never got on in school."

"I didn't think it was him, either. But honestly, I can't think of who it is."

Draco frowned, sipping his coffee. "I kind of thought you would already have it figured out."

Hermione shrugged. "It's hard enough to prepare a representation that would normally take months. I can't play investigator, too."

Draco smiled slightly. "Who knew Hermione Granger has limits. Where were you last night, anyway?"

"Kidnapped. George and Ginny."

"That explains your generally lackluster attitude this morning."

"Gee, thanks, Draco. What do you say you make me another cup of coffee and I'll listen to you talk about work for five minutes," Hermione was desperate enough for caffeine and opposed enough to moving that she was willing to hear about Quidditch.

"Wow, what a generous offer. I'll make you another cup," Draco agreed, chuckling. "But you don't have to hear me talk about work."

"Come on, I was just teasing. I want to know what's going on with you. Ginny mentioned something last night about your seeker leaving. Are you trying to get the post?"

Draco handed her a steaming cup of black coffee and gave her a skeptical look. Satisfied that she was interested enough, he responded. "I don't think so. Chaser has quite grown on me."

"Even though you have to work with Harry's ex?" Hermione was trying not to laugh and failing, while Draco wrinkled his nose up a bit.

"Well, I try not to think about that. I like to think he was in love with me all along, anyway."

"He was," Hermione reassured him, nodding and grinning. "I wish I had that sometimes."

"Don't tell me you're still pining after Weasley. You're too good for that."

"No, I'm not pining after Ron," Hermione said with an eye roll. "I meant a relationship like yours."

"Well you do have someone who's been in love with you for years."

"And who's that?"

"Viktor."

"He is not—"

Draco cut her off. "Hermione, he's crazy about you. You and I both know you're going to have to decide what to do about that sooner or later. You can't lead him on forever."

* * *

Much as she tried to dismiss them, Draco's words echoed through Hermione's brain while she got ready for her date. She had spent the vast majority of the day working, but gave herself an hour to take a luxurious shower and get ready.

Instead of putting her hair up as she nearly always did, she let it down, putting a bit of a smoothing potion in as she did every day. She wore a gold dress that she had purchased recently for this date. Privately, Hermione thought that Ginny might have been more excited when Viktor came to town than she was because it always meant an excuse to shop. Hermione always fought against getting a new dress for the occasion, but Ginny's enthusiasm won her over eventually.

Almost in spite of herself and her exhaustion, she did feel excited for the evening. It would be nice to be able to just be herself for the evening, and not worry about who was after Lucius, how she was going to prepare a case in a week, or any other items that might be floating around her mind.

She flooed to the restaurant to meet him; he was standing outside looking rather dashing. The intervening years had been kind to him. His face still had a slightly boxy effect, and he wasn't traditionally handsome, but his features had smoothed out a bit and he had adopted a more flattering haircut.

"Her-my-oh-knee!" He shouted as he broke into a huge smile. He had finally learned to pronounce her name, but still had an old habit of emphasizing every syllable as though it were its own word. He pulled her into a rather overwhelming hug before letting her go and unabashedly surveying her.

"You look beautiful."

"You don't look half bad yourself, Viktor."

The date started off well enough; they settled in to a table in the back of the restaurant to acquire some distance between them and the many reporters that loved to take pictures of the war heroine and the sports legend. They discussed several books they had sent back and forth to each other and some details of their lives. Hermione was genuinely happy to see him again.

"So I thought we had covered everything, but then I remembered you said you had exciting news."

Viktor smiled, grabbing her hand from across the table. "I do."

"Well, don't leave me in the dark. What is it?" The air felt heavy and Hermione was suddenly very nervous for whatever Viktor had to say.

"You may have heard of the open seeker position on the Harpies."

Hermione felt her eyes widen. "Yes, Draco mentioned it. What about it?" Hermione asked the question she already knew the answer to, perhaps to stall or just to form words.

"I took it."

* * *

It was Monday, and Hermione stood in the empty entryway to Azkaban, shivering from the wind forcing its way through the shoddy construction of the front door. When Zacharias walked up, Hermione was rubbing her hands together fiercely.

He laughed as he approached, a deep chuckle that sounded more genuine than his normal derisive laughter. Zacharias muttered under his breath and Hermione instantly warmed up.

"A warming charm, right," she mumbled softly, but loud enough for Zacharias to hear. "I haven't been sleeping much." It was true. Viktor's words echoed through her head like a ping pong ball, and her dreams were disturbing, ranging from Draco screaming at her while Lucius was dragged back to Azkaban to Viktor staring at her, saying the words over and over again. _We don't have to wait anymore. We can be together now._

"You're not working too hard, are you, Hermione?" Zacharias sounded genuinely concerned, which made Hermione's head spin more, if anything. And he used her first name.

"You sound concerned, Zacharias. Don't go soft on me, now."

Zacharias smirked and she instantly felt more at ease. "If you're too tired, who will I have to rile up? So what brings you here today?"

"I'm here to see Lucius, although I'm sure you already know that."

"I'm sure that I don't. Even your fake weeklong permission wouldn't extend to today." Hermione's chest tightened for a moment before the Hufflepuff continued. "Don't worry, I love being berated for reading correctly. But seriously, impressive for a Gryffindor."

"So, you're not going to…?"

Zacharias shrugged. "Why bother? I hate paperwork."

"Thanks," Hermione replied. She wasn't really sure what else to say. "Anyway…" Hermione realized she was fidgeting and stood up a bit straighter. "I guess you didn't see, but I was reinstated as Lucius's lawyer on Friday. I noticed my being off the case was on the front page, while being reinstated was shoved in a small paragraph in the back of the paper."

"No one likes bad news."

"And is it so bad for Lucius to have a fair trial?"

"I think it's too bad you're representing him."

"Well, I won't ask you why because I don't agree."

Zacharias laughed softly. "I'll take you back." And without another word, he led her down zigzagging corridors to a room deeper in Azkaban than she had ever been in before. "Where are we?"

"There are lot of visitors today," Zacharias shrugged before leaving her in a room that was exactly the same as every other she had been in. She drummed her fingers on the table, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to soothe her dry eyes.

Through her uncomfortable blinking, she made out a flash of platinum before straightening up, though she kept alternating between tapping the table and tracing circles on it, applying too much pressure to make her actions appear casual.

"So everything went well at the hearing, I'm sure you've heard." Hermione said in lieu of a greeting, her words tumbling out in a jumble. Her words last week had been in the back of her mind all weekend; despite the fact that this was a Death Eater she was sitting across from, she was worried she was hurt his feelings. It was all so absurd.

"I did, thank you."

"Draco told you?"

"I receive the paper, Ms. Granger. And my son visited me, although I'm sure you already knew that given how close you two are." _Your son and I have been on a first name basis for a long time, a fact you might be aware of were you not incarcerated for the death and torture of several people._ Hermione's words came back to her again, an effect she was sure was intentional. She couldn't help but begrudgingly respect the way Lucius layered on guilt without even mentioning her conduct last week.

"Yes, he told me."

Lucius's flat slate eyes wandered down to where her toying with the wood of the table had left slight indentations. A slender blond eyebrow raised as he surveyed her handiwork. "Why are you here today, Ms. Granger?"

"As you know, your case is in several days. I've spent all weekend going through your file, and there's a few last minute things I want to go over with you before your hearing, and then I'll be out of your hair."

"You are finished, then?"

Hermione smiled tiredly. "Only with you," she said lightly, and then realizing what she has said, she backtracked. "I mean with preparing you. I'm still working on your case, it's just everything I have left is arguments and looking up precedents, that sort of thing."

"I am not offended, Ms. Granger. I am under no misconceptions regarding your feelings toward me." _I really think you are._

"I'm truly sorry about my behavior last week. It was unprofessional."

"As I said, I am under no misconceptions. I know our relationship"—Hermione didn't think it was her imagination that his eyes flashed for a moment—"is anything but professional." For a few seconds that felt like longer, his eyes held contact with hers longer than they should have; longer, probably, than his years of grooming would have allowed. "We have too much history."

"Yes. Too much history," Hermione repeated, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Let's get to work, shall we? I'm still concerned that our conversation isn't private, so I'm going to keep things as brief as possible. I will be focusing on the defense strategy we've already discussed, and I don't want to hear any arguments about it." Lucius's mouth formed a thin line but he didn't respond.

They talked about the case for a while, their conversation perfectly professional and pleasant. Hermione didn't know how, but somehow they had started talking about Draco. Talk of Draco led to his work, and then…

"I would have never pegged you as someone who would date a Quidditch player." Of course he knew about Viktor; if he had made it to the small paragraph in the back of the paper about him, he would have had to pass the picture of them plastering the front page.

"I wasn't aware you had any expectations regarding my romantic attachments. Anyway, he's not just a Quidditch player, actually," Hermione huffed. "He's well-read, witty, and very kind."

"A list of qualities is not a relationship, Ms. Granger."

"Qualities are very important." Lucius hummed in response.

Lucius's slender finger idly toyed with the metal armrest on his chair. "And there isn't anyone else you're interested in?"

For a moment, Hermione had the distinct feeling Lucius could read her thoughts, but she quickly reminded herself that she was an excellent Occlumens. "Not anyone that would be interested in me." Hermione gave a small smile to lighten the depressing weight of that statement, but it was ineffective.

"You're too good to settle, Ms. Granger."

Hermione stiffened up. "Have you forgotten that I'm a _Mudblood_ , Mr. Malfoy?" She intentionally used his last name to separate herself from the question, to protect herself in case of a response she didn't like.

Lucius didn't make eye contact with her, a faraway look in his pretty gray eyes. "I don't think you'd let me forget." Neither of them spoke for what felt like minutes, but Hermione knew in reality it was only a collection of seconds. "I'm sorry that you're in this position, Ms. Granger, but this is the last time we'll have to talk one-on-one." Hermione didn't feel comforted by that statement. Not at all. Part of Hermione wanted to tell him that she wasn't sorry she was in this position, that she looked forward in some twisted way to talking to him, but she didn't. She just told him she would see him at the hearing, feeling two eyes burn into her back as she left the small windowless room.


	6. The Storm Before The Storm

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" It was the night before the big hearing, and she had spent the better part of the last week and a half holed up in her office with stacks of papers containing everything from old cases to personal notes. It had not been encouraging.

"I'm nervous, Harry. Really nervous. It's not looking good for Lucius, and it's not a normal case to me. I don't want to disappoint Draco." _Merlin, or Lucius!_

"Draco will understand."

"I know, but that that just makes me more nervous about disappointing him."

Harry chuckled. "I can relate. Look, Draco's father has done a lot of unsavory things, even if he had good reasons for doing that. No one is expecting a miracle, Hermione."

"What is most frustrating, though, is that I couldn't even prepare fully because nothing is private. So I couldn't even find out enough about his reasons for acting and build a good story. All I have is these terrible notes from Bole who made a better Quidditch player than he did lawyer. Sorry, I'm rambling. I'm exhausted."

"You need sleep."

"I need to go over—"

"Hermione," Harry's voice was stern now. "It's past midnight. You just said you were rambling because you were tired. You can't do that tomorrow."

"But—"

"I'm going to make you chamomile. It will take five minutes. That's how long you have before I'm dragging you to your bed myself."

Hermione argued a bit more, and then begrudgingly agreed when she smelled the familiar scent of chamomile traveling in from the kitchen. Harry was right after all; she had to at least be able to form complete sentences at the hearing.

Hermione told herself she would review her arguments as she drifted off to sleep, but it was one of those rare nights where she slept almost as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Hermione winced as another bright flashbulb went off in her face. "Ms. Granger, why did you agree to represent one of the most notorious Death Eaters?"

"Was it always your plan to establish yourself and then go into for profit work?"

"What do you think your chances are of escaping time in Azkaban for your client?"

"Is there any truth to the rumors that you witnessed many crimes your client stands accused of?"

"Can you tell _Witch Weekly_ readers about the robes you're wearing?"

"Ms. Granger!"

Hermione struggled to get through the morass of reporters, especially without yelling at them, but she managed. Dealings with Rita Skeeter had taught her that it was best to stay silent among the press, especially with the "spin" the Daily Prophet put on everything—the way they did it, it was more like a complete turnaround than a spin.

Once she fought her way through the crowd, she stuffed herself into one of the Ministry elevators filled with employees from all over the Ministry, but only one button was pressed. No one wanted to miss what the papers had been calling the hearing of the century (a phrase that had been almost criminally overused since the war).

"Mione!" _Merlin. Only one person would call me that._

"Hello, Ron," Hermione responded, looking determinedly forward. They weren't on bad terms, but Hermione always found convenient excuses to dodge plans whenever Ronald Weasley was on the guest list, and she barely wanted to talk to people she actually liked right now.

"I'm surprised you're going to this hearing."

That made her head whip around. "Excuse me?" She couldn't stop herself from staring daggers at him. How dare he question her decision to represent Lucius. It was one thing when Zacharias did so, but really, Ron needed to get past his prejudice against the Malfoys.

Ron turned beet red. "Mione, I just meant—I heard you got taken off the case and you're not one for these types of things."

Hermione would have laughed if she weren't so filled with tension. "I'm sorry, Ron, I thought you knew. I'm back on the case. You're right, of course; I'm not one for spectacle. But why are you attending?"

"Oh." The redness was back in full force, though it hadn't fully receded in the first place. "I just keep reading about it in the paper." _Translation: pictures on the first page._

"I don't think Harry would be happy to know you've come to goggle at his fiancée's dad. Just a thought." With that, Hermione easily parted the crowd that backed up to gape at her while Ron was lost in the sea of onlookers.

Although Hermione arrived twenty minutes early, the large circular room was nearly full to the brim. People had started to stand at the back of the room because there were no more seats. Hermione had to kick a couple out of her seat and the one next to it and explain to them that those seats were set off for a reason, holding herself back from lashing out at them. She laid her papers out on her desk, charming them so that the people in the front row couldn't see her small writing even if they craned their necks (and they were).

Hermione tried to focus on re-reading her notes, but that just made her nervous because she wished she could have reviewed so many of them with Lucius to better prepare. Despite bringing up her case with the Minister himself, he refused to postpone the hearing or independently investigate the eavesdropping, suggesting that she was overreacting, which was infuriating. She was not some hysterical little girl, after all; she was a respected lawyer and war hero. _I can't think about this right now. I can't._

When Hermione stopped reading her notes, however, she became aware of the heavy breathing behind her, the buzz in the room, the occasional snippets of her name or Lucius's, and the anxiety fell on her like an axe at an outdated muggle execution. Hermione had never had a fear of public speaking, but it wasn't her cup of tea, either. When she became a lawyer, it was something she told herself she would simply have to get past, and she had, for the most part. However, all of her clients were much lower profile and usually not even tried before a full court. There were certainly never people attending that didn't have a connection to the case.

Hermione tried to focus inward, but started to notice her escalating heartbeat, erratic even. She could feel sweat collecting under her nice black robes and the slight pain in her temples from pulling her hair back too fiercely in the chaos of the early morning hours. Worse, she felt her breathing as it went faster and faster, and she had never hyperventilated before, but was she hyperventilating now?

She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. "Oh, Draco. I'm glad you're here." She wasn't. Any other time, she would have been thrilled to see Draco, but when he asked if he could sit with her at the hearing, she felt she would have rather torn her hair out, and now she felt that tenfold. Draco was sweet and understanding, one of her best friends. But even if he knew intellectually the case against his father was staggering, it was different than seeing it. It was different than watching it unfold. And she hated that she had to be there while he did.

"Salazar, Hermione, are you alright?"

"Yes. Just a bit nervous."

Draco gave her what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile but in reality just made him look a bit queasy. "You'll do great."

Hermione shot him the same smile back. "Thanks."

As her eyes drifted from Draco, they focused on another Slytherin: Zabini. He had arrived, and was setting up across the way from her as though this was something he did every day. The trouble was, he practically did. He had tried a million of these cases (well maybe not a million, but more than her!). While this was her first case of this publicity, he thrived on the spotlight. She read the _Prophet_ daily (the whole paper, unlike certain redheads), and she had seen moving pictures of him where he commanded the room. Hermione knew she was a brilliant witch, but Merlin, she was no performer. In her stress-ridden state, she had stared fixedly at Zabini while her mind cycled through all of this, and he had the audacity to notice. He _winked_ at her. Actually winked at her. The nerve.

"Hermione?" It was Draco again. She had a vague notion that he had been trying to talk to her, but wasn't sure.

"Fine. I'm fine." Hermione looked up at the clock. Ten minutes to get it together. She could do this.

"I actually asked what you think our chances are today." _Godric!_ If it were anyone else, she would hex him. She really would. Who would ask a clearly nervous lawyer the chances of their father getting off for a laundry list, a lifetime really, of crime?

"I don't know," was all she could manage, trying to conceal the full weight of her anxiety. Draco nodded resolutely and squeezed her hand, but she saw tears welling up in his eyes. Hermione couldn't focus on comforting him right now, though. It was better to focus on this hearing in hopes that less comfort would be required later.

Hermione pretended to review her notes to avoid further conversation with her good friend while in reality staring at the half inch she kept as a margin in her notetaking, wishing that she could clear her mind so that all that remained was that slightly off white color instead of the colors and noise of the courtroom buzzing in her brain. Idly she thought that Occlemency lessons would have been helpful, if not for dark wizards invading minds, then for this overwhelming feeling that the weight of too much was on her shoulders.

Hermione heard the volume rise nearly threefold in the courtroom before she looked up and made eye contact with Lucius. Two wizards she didn't recognize led him into the courtroom. Though shackled and held roughly by four hands, he looked as though he were walking into a pureblood party. They had allowed him slick black dress robes for the occasion, and his hair was tied back as she hadn't seen in years. His gray eyes were steeled in determination, but still managed a certain calmness in their resolution. Overall, Lucius looked less frantic than at least half the audience in their frenzy. He held her gaze as they placed him in the chair that was rarely used for proceedings anymore, but that Hermione had heard Harry describe from his memory of Crouch Jr.'s hearing. Despite the horrifying sight, Hermione kept her eyes glued on Lucius's and felt her heart rate have the opposite response than it normally did in his presence. She felt some respite from her crushing nervousness, strangely taking comfort from the sight of her client, allowing herself to get lost in his stony gray eyes, if only for a moment.

Lucius broke the contact and glanced over at his son briefly, fleeting panic appearing in his eyes, more fleeting even than the look he gave Draco. It seemed Lucius had similar concerns about disappointing Draco. He scanned the audience, his expression unreadable, but Hermione noticed as his chin rose very slightly as though in defiance. She wanted to chastise him; he was supposed to be sympathetic, after all. However, there was no way to communicate even non-verbally while they were both under a microscope. And besides, she could hardly fault him for behavior that was merely a defense mechanism against an audience that would be more accurately described as a mob.

A few minutes after his arrival, the members of the Wizengamot filtered in in rows, almost as though they had lined up before entering. Their plum robes billowed as they walked, some of them scanning the audience, others determinedly looking nowhere, and many ogling Lucius with frank curiosity or distaste. Hermione watched the spectacle with disgust, trying not to draw conclusions but alarmed at the way many members were regarding Lucius. Once again, Hermione wished she could tell him to look less proud, but she would have to work with what she had.

As the booming voice of one of the wizards called for the commencement of the hearing, Hermione felt her mind clear and her determination return. She had this. _She had to._


	7. The Hearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the serious delay on this chapter. The next one is substantially written so I won't leave you hanging too long this time. I also wanted to make a disclaimer that, as is likely obvious from the title of this fic, my familiarity is with American law, not British law. That being said, I did not make much of an attempt to conform the legal procedures with those from the books, or with American law, instead blending a bit of both and tweaking for my own purposes.

The hearing was much more formal than any Hermione had been to. The wizarding world had strangely relaxed hearing procedures, and generally just descended into ad hoc questioning, but this one was quite segmented in comparison. There seemed to be a prior decision that Fudge was to lead the proceedings, strangely enough. After the war, Kingsley had reinstated him into the Wizengamot and Fudge had dug his claws in, hard. He had been a member for so long that there was little resistance, and Fudge fed off the power. Typically, the squirrely man could keep it under wraps, sporting a stern line with a smug smirk only occasionally popping through. Today, though, the smirk was the most subdued he seemed to be able to manage, breaking out into a grin on occasion. Hermione had more self-control, luckily, and was able to hold back the natural narrowing of her eyes or shake of her head at such a crude display of power when a man's life was on the line (figuratively; the Kiss was no longer a possible punishment, certainly no thanks to Fudge).

Zabini spoke first, delivering his opening with a certain flair for drama that Hermione both admired and detested. Hermione begrudgingly but diligently took notes; it wouldn't do not to meet every opening point. She had to suppress a sneer at some of his more fanciful concoctions ("silver-tongued serpent born with a silver spoon in his mouth?") With any luck, the Wizengamot wouldn't be persuaded with alliteration and repetition, but by cool logic. Between Fudge's lopsided grin and the elder Macmillian's fierce nods of encouragement, Hermione wasn't  _too_ hopeful.

Although it wasn't customary to intervene during an opening statement, there was nothing customary about the trial or the statement. "—in addition, Mr. Malfoy watched as Ms. Granger writhed on the floor during a particular nasty bout of the Cruciatus Curse administered in his own home—"

"Excuse me," Hermione heard herself say as she stood up. Suddenly the entire courtroom was staring at her. "Mr. Zabini's opening statement has strayed from what Mr. Malfoy is being tried for. It is not a crime to not intervene,"—Hermione winced at her own double negative but trudged on—"and if we are to judge everyone on their failure to do what is right at every moment of every day, you would have a very full schedule indeed."

"Ms. Granger, I will not accept such impertinence in this courtroom," Fudge snapped. "Mr. Zabini is merely setting the stage for the trial, not presenting evidence. Continue, Mr. Zabini."

As much as Hermione was perfectly in the right legally, she immediately regretted her outburst and inwardly groaned as Zabini took Fudge's intervention on his behalf as an invitation to lambast Lucius's character with perhaps every nasty rumor that she had heard about the handsome wizard and then some.

So Hermione kept her mouth shut as Zabini paraded through irrelevant information that should have never been allowed to be heard today, but at least his lengthy opening was having some positive effect: several members of the Wizengamot began to look visibly uncomfortable at the performance. So much for Zabini playing by the rules.

Hermione tried to focus on Zabini and her notepad, and was mostly successful because she was now running on raw indignation. Occasionally, though, she would chance a glance at one of the platinum-haired wizards, both of whom were close enough that she could read their facial expressions with ease. As much as Hermione was trying to avoid looking at them, it seemed that Lucius was trying even harder to avoid looking at his son, likely because of the increasingly embarrassing tone of Zabini's opening. Draco looked even paler than usual, and alternated between focusing determinedly at his shoes or his folded hands in his lap.

As much as it might have been wise to do so, Hermione could not hold her tongue when Zabini had the gall to use information that she knew was obtained illegally by her mysterious eavesdropper. "Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot—" Normally Hermione would have described the silence that followed this statement as a pause for effect, but it hardly had an effect when Zabini had used the technique generously during his obscenely long opening statement (the clock told her it had been well over forty minutes at this point). "—Lucius could not even find a disinterested lawyer; Ms. Granger is among the students Lucius attacked in the Department of Mysteries and her representation of Mr. Malfoy has deprived us of an important witness."

This time Hermione bolted up so quickly that her knee hit the thick wood of the table and shook it slightly, forcing her to slam her palm down onto her desk to keep her papers together. "Members of the Wizengamot, I implore you to reign in Mr. Zabini. This matter has been discussed and decided at a prior hearing. I was not a witness to this event, and have no relevant testimony on the subject, or I would have disclosed it long before I came to represent Mr. Malfoy."

"Ms. Granger, I have already asked you to stand down and allow Mr. Zabini to finish his opening."

"Mr. Fudge," piped up a man near the back of the members of the Wizengamot, "is this true? Has this matter already been decided?"

"The hearing was on Ms. Granger's ability to represent Mr. Malfoy, not on Mr. Malfoy's guilt or innocence," Fudge responded, making a motion for Zabini to continue. The Slytherin rose to resume but a witch toward the front gestured for him to stop.

"Mr. Fudge," she asked, "I believe was Mr. Tuberoid was asking was whether or not the issue of Ms. Granger's witnessing this was an issue that was decided in the hearing she refers to, not whether Mr. Malfoy's guilt or innocence has been decided."

"Yes, well, steer clear of that, then, Mr. Zabini." Fudge folded easily, looking a bit flustered.

Zabini wrapped up quickly after that hiccup, leaving the floor to Hermione. She kept it short and sweet, emphasizing Lucius's close relationship with his son, which was a bit awkward as Draco was sitting at her table as she spoke, and their friendship was well-known and well-publicized, like everything else in her post-Final Battle life. Hermione did her best to sound impartial, though she was far from it, and painted a picture of a man who acted to protect his only son by doing what he believed was his only option: following orders. Hermione idly wondered how close she was to the mark, but couldn't meet Lucius's eye as she spoke, so there was no way to gauge. Her opening was much shorter than Zabini's, partially by design. She was hoping that at least some sensible witches and wizards overseeing the hearing would appreciate her approach.

Despite the fact that Lucius had killed more than one muggle, the killing of Amelia Bones was the cornerstone of the case against Lucius for several reasons: Bones' standing in the community, particularly with the Wizengamot, the fact that there were a couple of witnesses who could testify (muggles could not testify for Statute of Secrecy purposes), and finally, longstanding prejudice. Hermione felt a bit silly for focusing nearly equal time on each murder, and substantial time on several lesser crimes. As much as she liked to think of herself as cool-headed and practical, she never truly was. It went against her nature to act in accordance with wizarding world prejudices.

Although Bones has been murdered in her home, her neighbors had seen Lucius perform the Killing Curse through a sheer curtain hanging over their living room window. Each neighbor came to the stand and testified one at a time, which was gratuitous but effective. Zabini's choice to use all of his allotted witness time on them was surprisingly clever. His strange decision not to ask any of her peers to testify finally made sense. Particularly chilling were the neighbors' descriptions of Lucius. A theme emerged: cold, calculating, unaffected. One compared Lucius's killing to someone doing their chores. Hermione objected to several of the descriptions, but to no avail. Fudge barely budged, and the Wizengamot did not seem to care much about Lucius's unfair treatment. The long strings of testimony were punctuated by audience reactions; gasps with interspersed exclamations of "no!" or "he didn't!" Hermione felt like she was in a muggle television program. Not wanting to extend the drama further, she kept her questions brief and to the point.

Finally, the seemingly endless charade ended, and Fudge broke for a late lunch before the final witness: Lucius. Ironically enough, her request to have Draco testify was struck down as "outside the scope of the proceedings."

As the crowd mercilessly began to thin, Hermione began scribbling furiously on her notepad, re-orienting the questions she had planned for her client.

"Hermione?" Draco's voice was small and uncharacteristic and Hermione wanted nothing to do with it right now.

"Yes, Draco?" She said in the most patient tone she could muster.

"Would you like to get lunch with me?"

Hermione didn't look up.  _That is the absolute last thing I would like to do right now other than continuing with this hearing._  "I have to work through lunch, Draco, I'm sorry."

"Do you want me to get you anything?"

"I think just water—and maybe an energy bar, or something?"

"You got it, Granger," Draco said in a tone that was a cross between light and melancholy. Hermione couldn't help but look up and return the gesture with a small sad smile.

* * *

"Thanks, Draco," Hermione said, finishing her sentence before looking up to acknowledge the person in front of her. "Draco, you didn't have to—" Hermione sighed instead of finishing her sentence. In her stressed-out state, she had completely failed to realize that she requested a snack that only existed at Muggle stores.

"How did you even get Muggle money?" Hermione asked, taking one of the pile of bars Draco has purchased.

"Harry had some," Draco replied in a clipped tone.

"Harry?"

"Don't ask," Draco said darkly. "I'll tell you later."

Fudge magically amplified his voice to bring the bustling courtroom to order, and for once, Hermione quite missed the noise of the crowd.  _At least it will be over soon._ The thought wasn't as comforting as she had hoped.

Hermione was supposed to question Lucius before Zabini went in for his kill. Hermione took to stacking her notes repeatedly, trying to get all the corners to line up while Fudge brought the room completely to order.

"Ms. Granger, if you're ready?"

Hermione offered a small smile and nod while she rose, pushing her chair in awkwardly and trying not to slouch. She had largely refrained from making eye contact with Lucius during the morning witnesses, but to do so while questioning him would be impossible, not to mention providing fodder for the crowd.

"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione begun. Her mouth was dry as she locked eyes with the stoic wizard, one of the few people who could make his chair largely designed to humiliate look like a throne. "Could you tell the court how you initially became a Death Eater?" Although Hermione didn't exactly plan for this line of questioning, she wanted to get the nastiness out of the way while she had the floor.

After marching through every crime Lucius stood accused of, Hermione asked a question that she hadn't been able to outside the presence of the hundreds of witches and wizards gathered in the courtroom. "Do you regret your actions, Mr. Malfoy?"

During the other questions, Hermione kept the Wizengamot's reactions in her periphery, but Lucius had her full attention (and, she suspected, the full attention of everyone else).

"I regret the lengths that I had to go to protect my family." Lucius's tone was solemn but confident. Although Hermione would have appreciated a long, drawn-out apology as it would have certainly helped his case, his simple statement meant much more to her, particularly because his eyes were locked onto hers. In fact, unlike her, he didn't look around to gauge reactions. He kept his eyes trained on hers throughout the entirety of his questioning, even during the awkward silences while Hermione fumbled with her notes. Hermione dismissed her train of thought; this wasn't the time, and besides, she was reading too much into the actions of her client.

Hermione asked a few questions about Lucius's relationship with Draco and even a bit about Narcissa, though those answers carried less weight after their divorce. Finally, she walked through his motivations for every illegal action painstakingly, laying down the case that all of Lucius's actions (since the last war) had been necessary, even noble.

Finally, after a couple of hours that felt like days, Hermione gave the floor to Zabini, who started by addressing the audience again, even though it certainly wasn't the time.

The questions were as she expected: he went through the same ground she did, trying to elicit more incriminating responses out of her client. Lucius didn't budge. His answers changed enough to not sound rehearsed, but not so much to sound fake. It would have been perfect if she could have injected those regal features with remorse.

Hermione didn't object to several items that were objectionable because of the cold shoulder the court had given her, but one of Zabini's questions literally made her blood boil: she felt heat rise in her cheeks and sweat seep through her robes.

He had asked: "Is it true that you initially balked at the idea of suggesting that you were acting under Voldemort's influence?"

"I am sorry to interrupt," Hermione cut in before Lucius could answer. She was not sorry to interrupt, which was likely written all over her face. She could see a small smile on her client's face; though he could have been laughing at her outburst, she took it as encouragement. "Mr. Zabini is asking about private strategy conversations between my client and me that is outside the scope of this proceedings and illegally obtained."

"Ms. Granger, please sit down," Fudge responded immediately, exasperated.

The witch who spoke up earlier cut in, however, looking increasingly irritated with Fudge. "What do you mean, illegally obtained?"

Hermione chastised herself briefly for bringing this up; she certainly didn't want to sound like she was spinning conspiracy theories to try to get Lucius off, but if the alternative was letting Zabini use all the information they had discussed during their Azkaban meetings, she had a strong hunch the next question would be regarding how long her and Lucius had been sleeping together. "It seems that at least one privileged conversation with my client and I was overheard something while visiting in Azkaban. This was the subject of the prior hearing I mentioned earlier, regarding the Department of Mysteries battle."

"How did you obtain this information, Mr. Zabini?"

Hermione had to suppress a grin as she saw a single bead of sweat make its way from Zabini's perfectly styled hair down his smooth forehead. "It was an anonymous tip."

"Please refrain from asking any other questions based on this anonymous tip, Mr. Zabini." Fudge looked a little irritated at the witch giving orders, but didn't take any action other than adjusting himself angrily in his chair.

"Yes, of course," Zabini responded smoothly. Hermione gripped the edge of her desk a little bit roughly as she saw Zabini turn one, two, three pages in his notes, which were apparently filled with questions based on conversations between her and Lucius. Luckily, there were no more surprises. Unsurprisingly, he finished his questioning with inquiries regarding Lucius's and Narcissa's divorce, which Lucius answered honestly but shortly. Zabini's closing argument harped on the divorce, naturally, and Hermione's focused on Lucius's protective nature and his close relationship with his son. Both closings were short, likely because both could tell that attention was slipping as the hours passed.

And then, as quickly as the day begun, Fudge was shooing out the entire audience so that the court could deliberate on sentencing. Hermione let Draco drag her out of the courtroom. Harry and Viktor greeted them with tight embraces in the hallway, and they all sat huddled together, ready for the inevitable.


	8. Sentencing

"Thank you for your patience," Fudge said in clipped tones. (Witches and wizards had tried to push into the courtroom during deliberation and the Wizengamot had to charm the door shut).

"We find Mr. Malfoy guilty of all counts. In consideration of Mr. Malfoy's excuses"—the term did not inspire confidence—"and after much deliberation, we have decided not to impose the maximum sentence of life in Azkaban, but instead a lighter sentence of forty years in Azkaban."

Several things happened at the completion of Fudge's announcement: Hermione felt her jaw drop; she could have sworn she saw a glint in Fudge's dark eyes; the audience cheered in unison; and as she turned her head, she caught a tear on Draco's cheek and a stiffening of Lucius's already stern posture.

Within seconds, Harry had somehow made it through the crowd to embrace Draco, so she left the two of them to themselves. Hermione pushed past the reporters, chin held high and expression stony. She focused on the muscles in her face and holding them in place; lips slightly pursed, eyebrows level, and eyes open and not watering—the last part was key.

She didn't go home; she knew she wouldn't make it. Because as much as she focused on the click clack of her seldom worn pumps or the mechanics of putting one foot in front of the other, she could feel the tears betraying her instructions and trying to push past her temporary mask.

Instead, she made it into her office, calmly took off her shoes and placed them neatly against the door, picking flecks of dust off her robes with her fingernails before collapsing in the corner and sobbing until sleep found her.

* * *

"Ms. Granger, I do not wish to see you right now," Lucius said in his characteristic drawl as Zacharias left the room. It was early in the morning the day after the hearing. Hermione had slept in her office, and made it to Azkaban just as visiting hours were beginning. Surprisingly, Zacharias hadn't even given her that hard of a time, probably because charms weren't the same as a hot shower and a change of clothes.

In response to Lucius's warm greeting, Hermione pressed her finger to her lip. "Ms. Granger—" His tone was indignant and haughty. She repeated the action and Lucius calmed down a bit, but he still looked mildly irritated.

Hermione slid a piece of parchment across the table that read simply, "Will catch whoever did this and appeal." Lucius read it a couple of times, tracing the lettering with his right index finger. Then he looked up at Hermione and shook his head, his face expressionless. Hermione looked in his direction until he rose his chin to meet her eyes. Despite his attempts to hide it, he looked defeated. Then she nodded forcefully, gesturing at the piece of parchment as she did so. Lucius looked down at the parchment again and raised an eyebrow.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, and then Lucius motioned with his hand as though he were writing with an invisible quill, clearly asking to write something himself. Unfortunately, in the craze of the last ten hours, Hermione hadn't brought a quill with her. She shook her head apologetically and he sighed. Hermione studied him, trying to ascertain what he might have wanted to say, but as usual with Lucius, she had no idea whatsoever what he was thinking.

After what seemed like ages but in reality was only a few minutes, Lucius tapped on the paper with his slender finger and nodded resolutely. Hermione echoed the nod and added a smirk; she received a shadow of one in return, but it was enough.

* * *

Feeling slightly comforted with a sliver of a plan and reluctant consent from her client, Hermione headed home with her head held high. The moment she walked in the door, she was nearly knocked over by a tight embrace and an overwhelming smell of smoke. Pushing the offending wizard off her, Hermione shook her head at Harry's disheveled appearance. "Harry, you smell like an ashtray. Is this why you had Muggle money?" Harry had gotten into a nasty habit of smoking cigarettes stolen from Dudley the summer after fourth year; trapped at the Dursleys struggling with Cedric's death alone, she could hardly blame him. But after the long nights she had stayed up to help him kick the habit, she could see why Draco was so irritated.

"I had a couple yesterday." Hermione kept her gaze trained on him, raising a single eyebrow. "I only bought one pack and I'm not going to buy another. Draco already confiscated the rest of my Muggle money, anyway." He mumbled the last sentence. Hermione just shook her head at him; she probably would have chastised him further, but she didn't have the energy, and it seemed like he was being truthful. "We were worried about you last night," Harry continued tentatively. "Where were you?"

"I didn't mean to worry you. I didn't think either of you would notice, to be honest. I slept in the office, that's all."

"Of course we would notice," Harry said kindly, although she knew "we" meant Draco, as Harry was about as observant as a rock.

"Where is your better half, anyway? How is he?"

"He's visiting his dad."  _We probably barely missed each other._ "He's holding up very well, considerably."

"Is he upset with me?"

"No, Hermione."

"I know he didn't say he was, but is he?" She realized the futility of her questioning, and Harry continued to reassure her that Draco was not mad or disappointed, but it didn't help. The guilt just sat on her chest. She knew she wouldn't feel any better until she talked to Draco, and wouldn't feel completely better until she secured a better sentence for her friend's father.

Hermione insisted Harry take a long shower and Harry insisted on keeping Hermione company. After some bickering, her dark-haired friend settled for making her a hot cup of tea before jumping in the shower. While Hermione was enjoying her earl grey, Draco came home, which simultaneously filled Hermione with anxiety and relief.

Instead of saying anything, she pulled the wizard into her second tight hug of the day. He was a bit stiff in response, but returned the embrace. "Sit. I'll make you a cup of tea."

Draco nodded quietly and sat on the couch. He looked exhausted. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and he winced slightly as he sat as though his muscles were sore.

"How are you, Draco?" Hermione asked as she sat down next to him. The minute she looked up to meet his sad gray eyes, she wanted to burst into tears, but instead she said softly: "I'm so sorry."

"Hermione, don't."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are. Look, we all knew it was an uphill battle. But the fact that you represented him instead of anyone else… it just tells me that we got the best sentence that we could."

"Draco, that's very sweet, but I understand if you're frustrated with me."

"Why would I be frustrated with you? I've seen how hard you've been working."

"And I saw you yesterday. You were devastated."

Draco sighed. "Yes, I was disappointed, but not through any fault of yours. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"About what?"

"Your responsibility in all of this. I went and saw Father just now, and told him I was going to hire a lawyer for any sort of appeal we can make." Draco paused and surveyed Hermione as though she were under a microscope.

"Oh," Hermione responded. For some reason, she felt strange admitting to Draco that she had already discussed the matter with his father, if one could call their exchange a discussion. "What did he say?"

"He was rather insistent that you handle the appeal." Again, Draco was silent, questioning her only with his expression.

"Did he say why?"

"Not really. I told him that you've already given up a lot of your time to work on the case, and that you wouldn't be amenable to the idea."

"And…?" Hermione added a small chuckle, but it sounded forced even to her ears.

"He seemed confident that you would be. Wouldn't say why."

"Well, he probably knows that I want to correct my mistakes."

Draco looked openly skeptical at this point. "Because Father knows you so well?"

"I didn't mean it that like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

"Just that…" Hermione felt herself grasping for the appropriate words, which was ridiculous because she had nothing to hide as she was just helping her friend with his father's appeal. "We're very similar in that way. He understands that I wouldn't want to leave the case this way."

"I see."

"And that's true. I would like to handle the appeal."

"Well, I'm not going to say no. As I said, you're the best. I will note that I find your behavior very strange."

"I'm just tired, Draco. As you said, I've been working very hard." Draco nodded and sipped his tea but his expression was unchanged. "And what reason could I have for acting strangely?"

"I can't think of any reason that makes any sense."

"There you have it, then."

* * *

The rest of the weekend was spent with the minimum amount of relaxation Hermione could get away with while Draco and Harry were checking up on her to make sure she did just that. She made a list of everyone who had a grudge against Lucius and cross-referenced it with a list of people who had continual interactions with Hermione. The second list was short enough that it made her feel a bit antisocial, but comparing the two lists left her with only two people. And they both worked in her office. Although she trusted Neville and Susan immensely, the overlap was difficult to ignore. But how to ascertain their guilt or innocence while keeping it from them?

* * *

When Hermione walked into her office Monday morning, sitting on the desk were three things that weren't there before: flowers from Viktor (with a very sweet and lengthy note), not one but three scones from Luna, and best of all, a letter.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_My name is Lucinda Lestrange. You likely remember me as the witch that disallowed Mr. Zabini from presenting inappropriate evidence at the hearing last Friday. I have some information regarding deliberations that you might find of particular interest. Without saying too much in this letter, I believe that we can find common ground in our goals._

_Best,_

_Lucinda Lestrange_

_Wizengamot Senior Member_

Hermione's mouth quickly formed into a smile as she read the letter. She felt an instinctual temptation to burst into the front office and ask Susan about the author of the letter, as Susan was always her first source for key members of the wizarding legal community. Sadly, directing this inquiry at Susan was no longer an option. She was on her own. Hermione quickly scribbled out a note, scheduling a meeting with the witch at the Three Broomsticks. She had learned her lesson long ago that while meeting in the Hog's Head might seem like a better idea for secret meetings, it made intentions too obvious to any observers. The bustle and noise at the Three Broomsticks would have to do. Ms. Lestrange seemed nearly as eager as Hermione; the young witch held the reply in her hands within two hours' time. Lunch was set for the next day.


	9. Lunch With The Lestrange

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively as Draco had greeted her at the door of her apartment with a glass of expensive scotch, which made Hermione a bit nervous. She had spent the last minute and a half sipping the smoky liquid, trying to avoid eye contact.

"He's at work."

"What's going on, Draco? Not that I don't appreciate the drink, but you clearly want to tell me something."

"Yes. It's probably best to just say it. We're moving out."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "I know, after the wedding."

"Hermione… we're moving out at the end of the week." Hermione opened her mouth to speak, although she wasn't quite sure what words were forming, but Draco kept talking in a slightly haughty tone that she knew was covering up bundles of nerves. "As you know, we've already picked out a house."

"It's beautiful," Hermione agreed softly, thinking of the gorgeous house and the manicured lawn. She had imagined spending so much time there, visiting her favorite couple, but it had seemed so far away at the time, as though she were imaging a different life. In some ways, she was.

"Thank you." Draco squeezed her hand.

"Why are you moving so soon?" Hermione tried not to sound pathetic, but didn't think she was very successful.

"It's nothing against you, Hermione, it's just that we've been waiting until the wedding is over, and we've decided to at least push it until we have a final word on my father's sentence. Don't give me that guilty look; I'm not blaming you. It would just be ideal to have him there, if at all feasible. Obviously we won't wait decades, but… Anyway, since we don't know how long it might be, we're not going to keep putting off the move just to please Mother. Besides, I'm cross with her for not attending Lucius's hearing. I know they aren't on wonderful terms, but it would have meant a lot." Draco was looking off into the distance, and now it was Hermione's turn to wrap her arms around him in a tight squeeze.

'After she let go, Draco was back to business. "We'll of course cover half the rent for the next couple months; I know it's terribly short notice."

"It's not about that, Draco. I'm going to miss you two." Draco smiled and put his arm around her. "Mostly Harry, though," she added grumpily. Draco just laughed in response.

* * *

Hermione could hear the  _tap, tap, tap_  as she nervously drummed what was left of her nails underneath the worn wooden table at the Three Broomsticks. She was determined to focus on the task at hand and put off her impending change in housing arrangements. Hermione had spent the bulk of the previous day researching the mysterious Lucinda Lestrange. She was Bellatrix's cousin by marriage, but had publicly disavowed the family numerous times, though Hermione couldn't help but note that none of those times were during Voldemort's power. She played both sides well, but one thing was for certain: the woman was adept at politics. And somehow, Hermione had been sucked into a political game she didn't even know the rules to.

"Ms. Granger." Hermione was wrested from her thoughts with a sugar-coated voice, far from the stern one in the courtroom, though they belonged to the same tall figure. Hermione reached out to shake her hand; long red fingernails contrasted with Hermione's short and jagged set while Hermione nervously choked out the name Lestrange. She was trying not to be prejudiced; after all, she was best friends with a Malfoy and here on behalf of another one. Still, it was hard to speak her torturer's last name with any ease.

"Please, sit," Hermione heard herself say.

"Thank you." Ms. Lestrange studied Hermione openly. "You were very impressive in the courtroom last Friday."

"You as well."

Ms. Lestrange smiled. "I've been doing it a little longer than you." Hermione heard a touch of bitterness creep up in the woman's voice before she flashed a graceful smile.

"I would like to hear more about what you mentioned at the hearing last Friday regarding being overheard while talking to your client."

Hermione swallowed nervously. She knew that the conversation would wind its way here, but she was not prepared for the direct approach. She had planned to assess the witch before determining how much to reveal about her suspicions. "Well, it's just as I said; confidential communications were overheard."

"Your use of passive tense is noted. Who overheard these communications, and how?"

"Well…" Hermione studied the witch, trying to ascertain her trustworthiness, but the woman was a blank slate. "I would like to know that as well, to be frank with you."

The woman across from her nodded knowingly as Madam Rosmerta brought two firewhiskys. "I wasn't sure what you wanted, but I hazarded a guess."

"Good guess," Hermione replied with a smile, inwardly wondering if it was too good of a guess. "Cheers?"

"To Lucius," the other witch offered. Though finding it a bit strange that the woman would suggest toasting to her client, Hermione went along with it. Hermione was a bit embarrassed after she downed her firewhisky in a shot and the witch opposite her had just taken a sip.

"That's unfortunate that you don't know who it is; that would make things more straightforward."

"Ms. Lestrange—"

"Lucinda, please."

"Lucinda, then." Hermione paused, removing her finger from tracing the rim of her glass to fold her hands in her lap and face Lucinda straight on. "You said in your letter that we might find common ground in our goals. What were you referring to?"

"Your goal of a favorable result in your case, of course."

"I was asking about your goals."

Lucinda smiled, revealing a slight gap in between her front teeth. "My goal is to remove Fudge from the Wizengamot. I can provide you several altruistic reasons for this. He relies on inadmissible evidence, cares much more for power than for justice, and is a toxic presence that rules through fear. But you know all of this already. What you may not know is that I'm next in line for his job."

"Why not come forward with your information, then? Why come to me?"

"You may not have known that I covet Fudge's seat, but nearly everyone else does. Going to the press is not an option; Fudge still has them in his pocket despite the fact that he is no longer Minister. He has close relationships with several reporters at the  _Prophet_ that he's rekindled. And I don't think our current Minister cares much what goes on at court; he's an ex-Auror and his idea of justice ends at capture."

"All those things about Kingsley and Fudge, though, they're as true for me as they are for you."

"You have a sterling reputation, Ms. Granger, and zealous representation of your client wouldn't be untoward considering you're his lawyer; I have to take a more neutral approach due to my job title and any attempt on Fudge coming from me will look purely political."

"Which it is."

Lucinda let silence descend for a moment, taking another small sip of her firewhisky. "Yes."

"Why tell me all of this? I could just trace this back to you."

"A calculated risk. I think you care more about the outcome of this case than ruining my reputation. Besides, it could be beneficial for you to have the Head of the Wizengamot owe you a favor. As I said, you're squeaky clean, but I don't think you're the type who would discount the value of that connection."

It was difficult to argue with the witch sitting across from her, though Hermione wished she could have. Unfortunately, gone were the days that Hermione thought signatures on a petition would be enough to get anything done. "What is it that you know regarding the deliberations?"

"Does this mean you'd like to work together?"

"To bring down Fudge?"

"Precisely."

Hermione looked up and met Lucinda's eyes. "I think I can agree to that."

"Excellent. In that case I think it's time for another round."

Hermione was glad she had agreed to another round because she was quickly infuriated. Apparently Fudge had blindly relied on Zabini's more colorful claims during deliberations, and the admittedly true statements about Hermione's presence at the Department of Mysteries and Lucius standing by while Lucinda's cousin tortured Hermione. Worst of all, he mentioned that he "heard a rumor" that Hermione was sleeping with Lucius.

"I have to ask if it's true," Lucinda asked, her tone not as apologetic as her phrasing.

"It's not. Just something I made up to see if conversations were safe. When I didn't see it in the  _Prophet_  the next day, I assumed that privacy had been restored. I was sorely mistaken."

Lucinda shrugged. "You underestimated people's estimation of you. Even Zabini and Fudge couldn't characterize it as truth without corroboration." For some reason, Hermione felt a twinge of annoyance at Lucinda's comment, but she brushed it off and dug into her food before determining a plan of attack on Fudge. It would mostly involve Hermione doing her due diligence in the appeals process, which would be unsuccessful with Fudge leading the appeal as well. There was nowhere to go but Kingsley, so she would just have to make sure that when it came to that, she had as much on the ex-Minister as possible.

* * *

"So, is it true that you had lunch with Lucinda Lestrange today?" Hermione was in the middle of slurping her hot soup that Draco had prepared when Harry asked the question, arms crossed and eyebrows knitted.

"Yes. Care to tell me what your facial expression is about and whether or not I should check to see if I'm being followed next time I step out for a bite?"

"You went to the Three Broomsticks and were seen with a Lestrange. Even I heard about it and I was practicing all day," Draco cut in.

"How did you hear about it, then?"

"Coach saw you at lunch," Draco explained with a shrug.

"Harry?"

"I dropped in on you to see if you were available for lunch and Neville mentioned it."

"Lovely. And now you would like to lecture me about spending my time with Slytherins while you sleep next to one every night?"

"I'm right here," Draco cut in. "I will also add that Lucinda was in Ravenclaw."

"You know her?" Hermione asked, dying for a second opinion on the witch.

Draco nodded, motioning for patience while he chewed. "Old family parties. I don't know anything useful, though."

"I do," Harry interjected, still looking like a big brother scolding his little sister for being out too late. "She's apparently quite ruthless when it comes to politics."

"And?"

"And you're not."

"Says who?"

Harry's face softened into concern. "I thought you did."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I thought so, too." She shrugged and returned to her food. Harry dropped the subject, and Draco turned the discussion to the impending move. Hermione tuned him out as she sipped her wine.

* * *

The following morning, Hermione arrived at the office early as usual, and spotted Susan; she was already at her desk. Taking a deep breath, Hermione hesitated for a moment before asking Susan if she they could chat for a moment.

"Certainly, Hermione. What is it?"

_Did you sabotage my case?_ , Hermione thought to herself, but she settled for: "Susan, is there anything you want to tell me?" After running everyone over in her head again and again, all signs pointed to the witch in front of her. She didn't want them to, but she couldn't avoid the situation any longer.

"Tell you?" Susan's face was a picture of innocence and concern. She pushed her long straight hair behind her slightly oversized ear, as though to signal that she was listening.

"Susan… I hate to ask, but I feel that I must. Did you have anything to do with…"— _what was the nicest way to put this—_ "spying on Lucius and me?"  _That probably wasn't the best way to phrase that._

Susan took a minute to process Hermione's too-straightforward question. Her thin lips formed an 'o' as she stared at Hermione, disbelief slipping into indignation. "So this is what you think of me?"

"Susan…"

"No, Hermione. Even though you represented my aunt's murderer, quite well I might add, I have done nothing but support you by taking up the slack on the cases we are actually supposed to be working on; you know, those that can't buy other representation. Those cases that you supposedly started this whole office for in the first place." Now Susan had paused to aggressively shake her head, having built up her anger throughout her speech.

"Susan, I care about those cases too, but Lucius was one of those cases. He would have been thoroughly unrepresented had I not stepped in."

"I've heard you're representing him on appeal. I suppose there's no lawyer that would do that, either?"

"And what would you have me do, abandon him?"

"Why not? Are you going to talk to me about loyalty when you're accusing me of this with no evidence? I thought you had some integrity, Hermione."

"Susan, I didn't mean it like that. I was just asking."

"I'll finish my cases and be out at the end of the month. I'll try to work from home." She was already packing this with her wand.

"Susan, please don't leave, I'm sorry I offended you."

"No, you're not. You're sorry that I'm leaving." And with that, she walked out the door, rolled parchment floating behind her.


	10. Endings

For the second time that week, Hermione watched as someone packed up all their belongings and left. It was much more painful when it was Harry doing it instead of Susan. By the time Friday had rolled around, her two best friends were almost entirely moved out. All that remained were a few cups in the kitchen and knickknacks scattered throughout the apartment, including some stray ornaments Harry had bought to decorate their small apartment tree every winter. By ten o'clock that night, the two wizards took the last of the objects in a tearful goodbye, leaving a still-sobbing Hermione, the scent of pine, and dishes in the sink that she couldn't even bring herself to be irritated about.

* * *

"Where is everything?" Viktor asked as he surveyed her apartment the next evening. She had invited him over for dinner, as she hadn't seen him since the hearing.

"Harry moved out yesterday," Hermione said in a hollow voice. She had cried all her tears yesterday, and almost felt that delivering the news at this point was like ripping off a band-aid: she had to mention it, of course, but it was the last thing she wanted to discuss.

"How are you?" Viktor asked as he hugged her from behind as she poured her standard red wine into two clear stemless glasses.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione said in a small voice. She felt hot tears threatening her dry eyes; so much for crying all her tears.

"Let me take care of this," Viktor responded gently. Hermione moved to the couch and tried not to cry as Viktor brought out the drinks and food she had ordered. Why did she feel so guilty every time he did something simple like this?

Conversation turned to other matters for a while, but a couple hours later, it was back to the apartment. "I started looking for a new place this week. Not earnestly, but flipping through the  _Prophet_ , that sort of thing."

"You don't want to stay here?"

"I can't afford it," Hermione admitted. "And I can't really stand the idea of having anyone else as a roommate."

There was a long pause before Viktor responded, nervously rubbing his large thumb against her hand and avoiding eye contact. "What about me?"

And Hermione could see it: Viktor moving in, having dinner together every night, sharing books, sharing a bed. It sounded lovely in the fairy tale kind of way that she felt when she watched cheesy romantic movies that she never admitted she watched. But she couldn't  _really_  picture it because the person she imagined herself as when she tried wasn't her; the Hermione in her head was more patient, more content, and much more in love.

"Viktor…"

"It's too soon," he quickly retreated, fumbling about with the napkin he had twisted in his lap.

"That's not it, it's just that—"

"Just?" He asked, his inquiring brown eyes mirroring her own for a moment.

"I don't think this is working, Viktor," Hermione forced herself to say aloud, her voice cracking and her heart breaking. He struggled against the idea but relented; overall, the conversation was briefer than she expected. Even though she had broken it off with him, he held her while she cried.

* * *

The next day, Hermione went to her favorite muggle bakery to pick up some baked goods to cheer herself. She bought everything her eyes landed on that looked tasty, meaning that when she returned home she could have fed a dozen for breakfast. Instead, she dug in herself, staring with a bagel and then a scone. As she bit into the baked good, though, she found herself disappointed. It tasted so dry; she missed Luna's scones, which always had some filling or other.

Hermione slowly placed the remainder of her scone on her crumb-covered plate as her mind raced. Luna had always brought in the treats occasionally, but it had only begun in earnest after she started to represent Lucius, and the deliveries had tapered off again after the hearing. And they were always filled with filling. "Perfect for concealing a potion," Hermione said out loud. "Fuck," she cursed to the empty apartment. Hermione told herself she must be wrong; after all, hadn't she already been wrong once?  _Maybe,_ a suspicious voice in the back of her head corrected her. Either way, she had to find out. All signs turned to the blond witch slipping her potions; would it really be so bad if she slipped her a potion of her own?

* * *

She held the clear liquid in her hand; it had been ridiculously easy to obtain through Draco's connections to the black market (or gray market, as Draco insisted). Although he asked more than one question, he eventually gave in after she laid on the guilt over him moving.

But could she use it? She kept it in her drawer at work the next Monday, looking over constantly in preparation for her meeting with Luna. Hermione had owled asking to speak with the younger witch; Luna quickly agreed. She wasn't due for ten minutes, so there was still time to dose her water with it, but Hermione hadn't determined whether or not she could go through with it.

She heard footsteps and quickly, instinctually even, filled the glass on the opposite side of her desk with Veritaserum. Luna smiled as she came in, sitting across from her wordlessly.

"Thanks for coming, Luna."

"Of course, Hermione," Luna responded.

Hermione sipped her water and Luna mimicked her. It was done. Hermione felt a rush of guilt mixed with excitement that she might finally have the answers she had been searching for.

"I need to ask you about something, Luna."

"Yes?"

"Did you dose the scones you gave me with a potion to eavesdrop on me?"

It was only a fraction of a second before Luna responded, but Hermione's heart was hammering. If she was wrong, she had violated Luna's privacy significantly. If she were right, the opposite was true. Either way, their friendship was likely destroyed irrevocably.

"Yes." Luna didn't look surprised by her response, and Hermione wondered if Luna would have told her the truth without the potion.

"Why?"

A bit of resistance crossed Luna's face this time. "You slipped me Veritaserum," Luna said, her calm demeanor faltering.

"Yes. Answer the question."

"He tortured me while I was at the Manor." Hermione winced slightly but pressed on.

"Lucius?" A nod. "Why not eavesdrop on his other lawyer?"

"I thought turning him in would take care of the problem, and Lucius would represent himself unsuccessfully. I wasn't expecting you to step in."

"Why aren't you in the files if Lucius tortured you? Did you come forward?"

Luna looked much more bitter now. "Yes. Bole filed a request with the court to prohibit me from testifying because of my  _mental state_. I'm not insane; I know what happened."

Hermione sighed sadly. "I believe you, Luna. But why not come to someone with this? Why try to sabotage Lucius? And why go to such great lengths to do it?"

"I'm sorry you were caught in the middle of it, Hermione," Luna began, and it was only the Veritaserum that made Hermione believe that she meant the apology. "I wanted to see him in Azkaban."

"Why?"

"He deserves it." A dark look spread over Luna's face that almost distorted her features, and Hermione realized in that moment that the war had had more of a toll on the witch sitting across from her than she realized. Hermione didn't know whether to feel anger or pity.

"I'll have to report this, you know."

"I know." Hermione delicately spun ropes around her old schoolmate. Aurors took her away a half hour later, while Hermione was still processing it all. She penned a quick note to Kingsley, and was able to set a meeting for Friday, four days from now. She was lucky; there had evidently been some sort of cancellation.

* * *

"You seem to be in a cheery mood today," Zacharias observed as she greeted him at the entrance of Azkaban. Hermione was in a good mood; it was one day away from her big meeting with Kingsley, and she could feel assured that her conversation with Lucius was private. Just to be safe, she had waited the full seventy-two hours that potions could be effective for; although she didn't think Luna had dosed her recently, it was best to be careful.

Hermione had considered waiting to visit the wizard until after her meeting with the Minister when she had news to deliver, but she had felt compelled to visit him as soon as she knew the potion was out of her system. After all, she did have updates today, as well.

"I am in a good mood today, Zacharias."

"And who are you here to see?"

"Lucius Malfoy," Hermione said. Zacharias twitched at the name before nodding. "What, no witty commentary? No attempt to prevent me from coming in?"

The Hufflepuff shrugged. "I saw the paperwork that you're representing him on appeal. Just not sure why you're bothering."

"You do realize I represent people in Azkaban. That's my job."

"Right, people in Azkaban. Not Lucius Malfoy."

"And why are you judging who I represent?"

"You're right, it's not my business. Here we are." Hermione went into the small white room without responding to Zacharias. Their exchange did sour her mood a bit, though. She always expected him to be rude, but usually it was with a bit of humor. This dry disappointment didn't sit well with her.

Lucius gave her an odd look as he sat down that she couldn't quite place. It almost gave off the impression that he missed her, but she knew better than to assign that emotion to Lucius. The door closed behind Zacharias as he left her with Lucius and increasingly she was unsure why she came. Silence descended until she finally broke it. "Hello."

Lucius just raised an eyebrow and gave her a questioning look. "We can talk now. I am certain that we won't be overheard, and I don't use that word lightly."

"I would not expect you to claim certainty lightly, Ms. Granger."

"I appreciate that." Silence fell again while Hermione collected her thoughts. "Draco said you insisted I handle your appeal."

"Yes."

"Is it true?"

"Are you suggesting that my son would lie to you about our communications?"

"No, I was just surprised, that's all."

Lucius studied her as though she were an alien being. His eye contact was a bit unnerving; he had always had strong eye contact, but in all their previous meetings he would occasionally relieve her from his gray irises that felt like probes. He was staring today, though, just as he had in the courtroom.

"I am perfectly capable of recognizing your skill in your profession," he finally responded. "Thank you, by the way. You were very adept in the courtroom."

"A thank you from Lucius Malfoy. I'll take it." He didn't respond, so she continued: "You were almost an ideal witness. You would have been perfect had you not been so haughty."

Lucius smirked at that. "That sounds quite familiar."

"I would imagine it does."

"So, what makes you certain of our privacy today?"

"I've discovered who had been eavesdropping on us."

"And?"

"It's Luna," Hermione couldn't help but say it in a sad voice. She hadn't quite overcome finding out that it was her friend. Apparently Lucius was not happy with the news, either, because he had the same expression he had the last time she brought up Luna: his face filled with anguish fleetingly before forming into a blank mask that she hadn't noticed had been absent until it returned. Wearing it, his eyes looked smaller as they were slightly narrowed, and there was an overall hardness in his features that she had always associated with the wizard. He nodded dully, processing. She had mulled over asking him about the circumstances surrounding the torture, but his obvious regret told her enough for now.

"What will happen to the girl?"

"I'm not sure yet. I've turned her in, but I doubt she'll get more than a slap on the wrist."

"I saw in the paper that she had been arrested on a minor charge, but I never imagined it was related. Susan Bones is representing her, correct?"

"Yes," Hermione responded bitterly. She had seen the blurb in the paper as well, but quickly dismissed the story as it made her feel incredibly distant from all her friends.

"Doesn't she work in your office?"

"Not anymore." Hermione could hear the irritation in her tone, and presumably the wizard across from her could as well as he dropped the subject.

"Hermione"— _fuck, he used my name_. He paused for a moment; she saw his shackled hand twitch, as though to reach out, and he opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Visiting hours are over," Zacharias informed them as he opened the heavy door without waiting for a response from within.

"I'll come by tomorrow. I'll have news then," Hermione said shortly.

"I'll be here," Lucius responded haughtily, though there was a bit of humor twinkling in his eyes. Hermione reluctantly left, wondering what it was Lucius was going to say. It probably wasn't anything important.


	11. Checkmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay! One of the scenes in this chapter was just not flowing for me, and I didn't want to post until I was happy with it. For whatever reason, it just started working tonight, so hope you all enjoy!

A small, white-haired man stood between her and Kingsley's office. "Do you have an appointment, Miss?"

Hermione suppressed her irritation; other than the fact that she was a member of the Golden Trio, she had met the wizard at least half a dozen times before, but he pretended not to know her every time she came to Kingsley's office. "Yes, it's in twenty minutes." Although Hermione's office was about a five minute walk from the Minister's, she couldn't kick the habit of showing up early.

"Name?"

"Hermione Granger."

There was no recognition in the wizard's face as he flipped through his disorganized papers that apparently detailed Kingsley's meetings. "Ah, yes. Ms. Granger. Kingsley is out right now, and wanted to tell you he might be a bit late, but you are welcome to take a seat."

"Thank you," Hermione said curtly before waiting in the impersonal waiting room. Kingsley had reportedly done no decorating since becoming Minister, leaving the waiting room looking nothing like the warm wizard. Instead, the various shades of cream and gray made it feel like a sterile hospital room.

Hermione reviewed her notes as she waited, more because of the lack of anything better to do than need to review.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality forty-two minutes, Kingsley came rushing in, all apologies.

"It's quite alright, Minister, I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice." Hermione reassured him as she took the seat across from him.

"Hermione, you can always call me Kingsley."

"Thanks, Kingsley."

"And now you wanted to see me about Cornelius Fudge?"

"Yes; I have some disturbing news to report to you, Kingsley. It seems Fudge has been skirting rules in the courtroom in nearly all his cases, and these aren't technical mistakes. He's considering evidence that shouldn't be allowed anywhere near deliberations, and even worse, has discussed unsubstantiated rumors during said deliberations."

Kingsley looked a bit weary at this news. "What do you want me to do about it, Hermione?" He asked after looking through the copious notes she had brought him.

"I want you to fire him. You can't let him continue on this way."

"He's just helping put ex-Death Eaters away. I know that strikes you wrong as a defense attorney, but as someone who fought alongside me in the war, you can't be too upset about it, can you?"

Hermione reminded herself to be patient. "Kingsley, our laws are in place for a reason; to discover the truth without tainting it with hearsay." The wizard was looking at her hesitantly. "If Sirius was tried fairly, he likely would have been out much earlier, but he was a victim of the backlash against supposed Death Eaters after the last time Voldemort was defeated. Do you want the same legacy?"

Kingsley was quiet for a moment before responding with a slow shake of his head. After more discussion about details, he had agreed to remove Fudge from the Wizengamot.

* * *

That very day, Hermione went to Azkaban. She told herself it was because she promised Lucius news, but she had been thinking about their last meeting, as well.

Once Hermione was within the walls of one of the white Azkaban rooms, she ran through her meeting with Kingsley at lightning speed, coming not so casually to the question she had been wanting to ask. "And what is it that you wanted to say to me?"

"What are you referring to, Ms. Granger?" Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed by the use of her surname.

"When I was here yesterday, you were about to tell me something, or it seemed like you were."

"Ah," Lucius replied, glancing down as his right eyebrow shot up. He resumed eye contact before continuing, "I wanted to apologize."

"Oh. Whatever for?" Hermione asked in response, too cautious to hope that he might be apologizing for everything.

Lucius laughed, an actual full-throated laugh that lit up his face and made him look much younger than he was, but only for a moment. "You are truly one of the strangest women I have ever met. I'm sorry for my behavior. During the war. Toward you." The last several words were punctuated too frequently, disrupting Lucius's typical aristocratic flow. His gaze intensified as he finished his drawn-out sentence until Hermione felt very much under scrutiny. Part of her felt as though her response was greatly anticipated, as though she had the wizard on the edge of his seat; but she had read so many things into their interactions, hadn't she? Hermione was a bit worried she had just been crafting a narrative in her head, and he was just apologizing out of politeness. But his eyes told a different story; in this instance and every other.

"Were you apologizing to me during your hearing?" Hermione asked. If he said no, she would be incredibly embarrassed, but it was worth it for the possibility of hearing a yes. An affirmation.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"When you said you regretted your actions, you were looking at me."

"You're my lawyer; where else should I have been looking?" Lucius was getting defensive quickly, and Hermione realized she probably should have responded to the apology before interrogating him, but she had never been good at holding back.

"I forgive you, by the way."

"You forgive me? Just like that?"

"I think I've forgiven you for a while now, but I haven't forgotten anything. I still have a lot of questions."

Lucius hesitated but gave her a slight nod, gesturing for her to continue.

"Have your feelings on muggleborns changed?" Hermione went straight to the question that had been swimming around her mind for ages now. They had danced around the topic, discussing muggleborn lawyers and Hermione throwing his hatred in his face. But he had never said it out loud; that she was equal. And she needed to hear it.

Lucius studied her, as though trying to decide how best to answer.

"I'm not interested in the party line; I want the truth."

Lucius opened his mouth as if to retort, but thought better of it and responded instead. "I have always been somewhat prejudiced against muggleborns." Hermione couldn't help herself; she snorted, which was met with an uncharacteristic eyeroll. "I can only talk about this if you are willing to listen." It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes, but she agreed with a sincere nod. "My parents raised me quite similarly to how Narcissa and I raised Draco. I was taught that wealth, status, and yes, blood as well, put me above other witches and wizards. I believed them, but did not have as strongly held feelings as you might have imagined. When the Dark Lord came along, I recognized power and found his ideas agreeable. I found them such more so because they benefited me than because I thought muggleborns were inferior; although I admit, I did think that as well. As the Dark Lord's ideas became more extreme, I grew weary, but I was too deep in at that point. And now? I don't really believe muggleborns are inferior. I find myself thinking things along those lines occasionally, but it is more a vestige than anything else."

"What changed your mind?"

"I am surprised you didn't figure it out for yourself. As I said, I've always recognized power. And when a muggleborn defeated the Dark Lord, where the power resided was obvious. You also can't deny the Dark Lord himself was a powerful wizard, and when I found out he wasn't a pureblood, it became increasingly absurd to cling to my old beliefs."

"But I didn't defeat Voldemort; Harry did."

Lucius laughed for the second time that day, and she had to admit to herself that she found herself attracted to him in that moment. "No need to be modest with me, Ms. Granger. I rarely waste my time with such airs."

"Really? I would have never known," Hermione said dryly.

"Do you have any other questions, Hermione?"  _Merlin._ He had used her name again, and to top it off, she had never seen him look quite so… sincere. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tell herself that she didn't have a crush on Lucius Malfoy.

She tried to brush that aside; this willingness to share could be a passing mood and she did have more questions for Lucius, after all. "What happened with Luna?"

"Exactly what you think. I tortured her. I was ordered to, of course, but it makes no difference. I had to torture her for information for hours. Frankly, it was a miracle that she hasn't ended up in St. Mungo's."

"Oh." Hermione responded with a small squeak. Maybe it was Lucius's sorrow regarding Luna, or a desperate desire to believe the best in him, but she realized part of her had wanted him to reveal an extremely complicated tale that absolved him entirely.

"I'm not a good wizard, Hermione, but you know that already, right?" Lucius seemed uncertain, which only served to make Hermione more uncomfortable. Lucius being anything but self-assured was incredibly jarring, to say the least.

"Right," she responded in a small voice, not really knowing what else to say. She was worried that if she responded with anything else she might reveal a regard for him, and as she had only just admitted that to herself, she wasn't ready to share. "Well, I should probably go. Hopefully the next time I see you, I'll have good news."

"Until next time, then."

* * *

The next day, Hermione woke up slowly, at first groaning and attempting to return to sleep before remembering that she had very much been looking forward to reading the  _Prophet._  Unsurprisingly, she was unmentioned. Fudge had "stepped down unexpectedly" the day before, now being replaced by Lucinda Lestrange. Perfect. Kingsley had told her to take up Lucius's appeal with the new Chief of the Wizengamot, so she wasted no time in writing to Lucinda. She responded quickly and set a meeting in Lucinda's office this time. Things were slowly happening, and Hermione finally felt some hope regarding Lucius.

* * *

Hermione had on her favorite midnight blue robes, ready to negotiate with Lucinda. She had felt rather confused after her last meeting with Lucius, and was happy to have a distraction. And, despite the fact that Lucinda had promised to help with Lucius's case after taking Fudge's place, Hermione wasn't naïve. There was no guarantee. Just as she suspected, when she came to collect, Lucinda balked.

"I'm sorry Hermione, but I can't be soft on a Death Eater for my first act as Chief Witch of the Wizengamot." Her eyes did not match her statement. Rather than sorrowful, Lucinda looked merely bored.

"I thought you might say that," Hermione replied, badly concealing her smirk. "Are you familiar with a device called a tape recorder?"

Lucinda's smile faltered momentarily. "I can't say that I am."

"I thought not. This"—Hermione pulled out her tape recorder—"is a tape recorder. And this"—Hermione pressed play—"is you telling me about discussions in deliberation, which are strictly forbidden to disclose, am I correct?"

Lucinda didn't bother responding to Hermione's rhetorical question. "And how can you prove you did not magically alter such a device?" Lucinda straightened her posture and smirked openly, clearly convinced she had the upper hand again.

"You provided me with notes from four separate cases. The only judges on all those cases are you and Fudge. I checked."

"You could have stolen those notes from me."

"Me? Hermione Granger? Steal?" Hermione couldn't help having a bit of fun. "Are you sure that's the narrative you want to go with? You know it's best to keep it believable, unless you have no case. Which you don't."

Lucinda's mind seemed to be working in overdrive before she responded several seconds later. "He can serve the rest of the sentence under house arrest or three years in Azkaban."

"I want a pardon."

"You think you've checkmated me? Fine; you have. But what will you get if you bring this forward and convict me? Someone else to deal with who will be much less amenable to granting what you want, unless you have dirt on everyone in the wizarding world. Kingsley required the sentence be reconsidered; it could stay the same or be reduced by two years, at best. You won't get a better offer than this."

Hermione wanted to argue, but each witch had bested the other in some way. "I'll let you know which option my client chooses in the next few days." Lucinda nodded and they parted ways. As much as Hermione hated to admit it, the witch had been right. Lucius wouldn't get a better offer than this; he had a serious decision to make.


	12. A New Dress

"Three years it is."

"Well, you don't have to decide right now, Lucius—"

"There's no need to ponder the matter when I know my answer. Three years." The wizard delivered the sentence with a bored wave of his hand that looked somehow effortless despite the restriction from his ancient-looking handcuffs.

Hermione watched the display—because it was obvious to her now that his detachment was an affectation—with mixed feelings of disappointment and hope. Somehow, the knowledge that he would be a free man in every sense within the foreseeable future was encouraging; it was a fresh start. But Hermione wasn't prepared for that, or the feelings that accompanied his decision. She had expected Lucius Malfoy, patriarch of Malfoy Manor, to return to his home and lord over it for the next several decades. But if she were honest with herself, Hermione knew that  _Lucius_ , the person she had slowly gotten to know, would not want freedom within limitations; his pride would prevent it.

"Lucius"—Hermione let his name hang in the air, pausing until the man across from her looked her in the eyes, as she had become accustomed to, forcing him to stop avoiding her like he had been that morning—"are you sure?" She pushed all her concern into those three words. Just because she understood the reasoning didn't assuage her fears; a lot could happen in three years, especially in Azkaban.

"Yes, Hermione, I'm sure." Hermione heard a loud  _clack_  as one of his black handcuffs opened and fell as his hand covered hers unexpectedly. Neither of them commented for some while on the wandless magic that had come seemingly out of nowhere, but instead stared at one another as Lucius's surprisingly warm hand squeezed hers for reassurance. She responded by tracing small circles near his wrist and was rewarded with the ghost of a smile.

"It's just three years," Hermione said softly, breaking the silence.

"Yes," Lucius responded, stiffening again and recoiling slightly. He bound himself quietly back into the chains he always wore. "Wouldn't want to extend that sentence," he muttered under his breath somewhat bitterly.

"I could visit," Hermione offered, instinctually wanting to comfort.

"No, I don't think so." Lucius's voice was smooth as always, but it had a bit of a bite to it.

"Why?"

"Why would you?"

Hermione swallowed loudly, unsure of her response. She searched the various gray flecks of the eyes across from her, but they were shut off; they held none of the vulnerability or openness that they had seconds before. She felt confused and hesitant. "Because I would like to."

"Why?"

"I'm quite fond of you." For such a noncommittal statement, Hermione felt as though she had expressed her undying admiration. Perhaps it was because so much had remained unspoken, and that was if there was anything at all. Lucius might see her simply as his son's best friend, after all.

"I don't want you to visit me." It was final, harsh, and unforgiving, and Hermione felt her eyes water slightly.

"You aren't in a great position to turn down visitors," Hermione replied jokingly, but knew that her shaky voice did not convey the lightheartedness that she wished it to.

"One still had some privileges, even in prison."

"Why don't you want to see me?"

"Ms. Granger, I don't see why I would." And it took a lot for Hermione to give up, but the cold exterior combined with the flat insistence on her not returning was something that even she could not push past. She had her pride, too, after all.

She couldn't hold it back any longer; she felt one large tear run down her face as she nodded resolutely. "I won't apologize for being decent."

Lucius responded with a raised eyebrow and a slight opening of his mouth. "Don't bother. I expect we will have few reasons to see each other again," Hermione snapped as she wiped away her tear. Sadness was quickly forming into anger, and she took the opportunity to turn on her heel and leave.

* * *

"To Hermione, the cleverest lawyer I know," Draco yelled out. Although Draco tried to suppress his concern for his father, it was obvious how much he cared from his well being, from the fact that he was a nervous wreck at his hearing to Draco's overflowing joy at the dramatically reduced sentence. Hermione didn't tell anyone the means she had used to acquire the result; sometimes it was best to keep some things to yourself, after all. But despite the revelry, Hermione felt a bit withdrawn. Her conversation with Lucius had loomed over her for the last few days, and she kept returning to the tender moment they shared; was he comforting his son's friend? Thanking her? It didn't feel like that; it felt like the sort of affection and support she had been wanting, and had pushed away in Krum. Yet it was more difficult to conclude that he cared for her after the sharp blow of rejection.

Hermione smiled faintly as Ginny congratulated her. She was the third person to say what a wonderful lawyer Hermione was, et cetera. And Hermione couldn't help but agree; she felt satisfied with her career and smug at besting Lucinda. But when she had lost Luna, Susan, and Neville in one blow (for Neville had followed his girlfriend), and then Lucius, which inexplicably hurt more, it was difficult to bask in her accomplishments. The disappointments hung heavier, casting shadows on a celebration that felt out of place.

* * *

_Two Years, Seven Months Later_

"You couldn't have sent flowers? Or  _a_ flower, even?"

"I gave you two orgasms; isn't that enough of a birthday present?"

"Not really, no," Hermione snapped.

"I thought you didn't want anything serious; if you've changed your mind, then—"

"I haven't," Hermione interrupted him midsentence. "Can you leave already?" She tossed his clothes back at him and he dressed as he walked through the living room, calling goodbye on his way out.

She collapsed on her bed, frustrated more with herself than with him. She didn't really expect gifts from him; she had been the one to draw the line clearly at sex. It was more that her birthday this year had been the worst ever. Twenty-three wasn't a terribly exciting birthday, but she didn't expect it to be flat-out depressing. Harry and Draco gave her gifts beforehand, but were traveling the day of. Ginny, the only other person she had remained close to, was growing more and more distant, no longer popping by unannounced. Hermione even tried to make plans with her, something she had never had to do before, but to no avail. So she had spent the day mostly alone, reading and meeting for excellent, but emotionally unfulfilling sex. Normally she appreciated the arrangement, but today was simply not one of those days.

* * *

"I brought you coffee; your favorite from the Muggle shop across the street," Pansy sang sweetly with a plastered-on smile.

"Unless you plan on going back in time and spilling that coffee on my copy of the  _Prophet_ , it doesn't help much," Hermione responded sharply. After Neville and Susan's departure, she had to refill the small office and had a difficult time finding adequate talent. Draco had recommended Pansy (much to the irritation of his fiancée) and Hermione reluctantly accepted after reviewing her credentials and conducting an interview. The Slytherin made an excellent lawyer, but her occasionally underhanded tactics made the paper a little too often. What irritated Hermione the most was that she only cared when she saw it in print; the contrast between her visceral reaction to reading about it and her otherwise laissez faire approach was a sharp reminder of how much she had changed over the years.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, truly I am. How was I to know there was a reporter nearby? I went to the Three Broomsticks; it was crowded. I didn't know anyone was listening."

Hermione waved her away, too tired to deal with this problem right now. "Let's discuss it  _after_ I drink my coffee."

"Sounds good," Pansy responded with a grin.

* * *

Hermione awkwardly stood near the door of the witches' clothing store,  _Stitches for Witches_ , not wanting to wait out front, but not wanting to shop alone either. Ginny had said they would meet here, but after getting stood up the last few times, Hermione wasn't confident of her arrival. Surprisingly, Ginny showed up just ten minutes later, her hair a bit of a mess and her face bright red.

"Ginny!"

"Hermione, so good to see you!" Ginny half-heartedly exclaimed, anxiety evident in her voice.

"Ginny, you look terribly nervous. I'm not going to judge you for coming from a good shag. I think we're past that, unless we've reverted from so much time apart?" The last sentence, intended to be teasing, came out a bit more biting than Hermione intended.

"Right, of course. Well, let's go."

"Go? Where? We're in a store right now."

"I knew when you asked to meet here to shop for the wedding that I had to help. I mean, really, you can't buy anything from here that's nice enough."

Hermione argued briefly but eventually gave in, letting Ginny drag her to the next store, mostly happy that Ginny was acting relatively normal.

Once they entered the far nicer establishmnt, Ginny was a woman on a mission, wordlessly choosing dresses for each of them and tapping them with her wand. When she tapped them, they disappeared from sight, transported to their respective dressing rooms.

They tried on what felt like a hundred dresses. Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable in the dresses Ginny picked out; they were too tight or revealing for her taste. Normally she battled against Ginny on this front, but partially to appease her friend and partially because she wanted to feel sexy, for once, she didn't argue. She settled on a tight dress in a dark, saturated blue: her favorite color. The neckline was high, but the dress dipped down into a "u" in the back, and a slit worked up to her thighs from the floor-length hem.

" _This_ is the dress you've decided on?" Ginny asked incredulously as they were checking out.

"Why so surprised? You picked it out."

"It's not very… you."

Hermione shrugged. "I like it." Ginny responded with a laugh coupled with a disbelieving shake of her head.

* * *

"Well now that I have the dress, I need a date," Hermione declared as they plopped down on her couch, exhausted after a full day of shopping.

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "You usually don't mind flying solo to things."

"I'm tired of the pity," Hermione responded, which was only a small part of the truth. She was tired of the pity, but she mostly wanted to avoid one man's pity: Lucius. She hadn't seen him since he had rejected her from jail and she wanted to show him that she was perfectly fine without him. It was a bit childish, but she could live with that. "What about one of the Quidditch players you know? Could you round one up for me?"

"A Quidditch player? You are full of surprises, but yes, I think I can make that happen. What about the mystery man you've been meeting up with?"

Hermione scoffed. "I doubt he would be interested in playing boyfriend, and besides, I would be embarrassed to be seen with him, which is why, for the millionth time, I will not tell you who he is."

"About that—I actually have something I need to tell you." There was that anxious look again that Hermione wasn't accustomed to seeing on her old friend's face.

"Yes?"

"I'm bringing Viktor to the wedding. As my date."

Hermione laughed. "Is that all? I'm glad you two have become such good friends."

"Not as friends, Hermione," Ginny said nervously, and Hermione felt terribly thick for not realizing what Ginny was saying right away. It was written all over her face, and made their strained relationship the past few months make sense.

"It's been a few months, hasn't it?" Hermione asked in a tired voice.

"Yes, it has, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner but I wanted to make sure it was serious first. I'm so sorry, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, processing. She couldn't fault Ginny for being with Viktor; she wanted both of them to be happy, after all. But there was this small part of her pride that felt slightly bruised with the knowledge that Viktor had moved on. It made her feel cruel, but it was difficult to dismiss. "I want you both to be happy," Hermione voiced. "I am upset that you didn't tell me before; I've felt so alone lately. You're one of my closest friends."

Ginny slid over on the couch quickly, embracing her in a tight hug. "We'll always be close friends. I'm sorry I let this come between us."

"So are you in love with him?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yes," Ginny confirmed with a small smile, clearly trying to suppress the full weight of her happiness.

"I think you two will be good for each other, really. It just might take me a bit to get used to the idea."

Ginny nodded, her face filled with understanding and relief.


	13. The Charm of Extension Charms

Hermione dodged her date; he had fulfilled his purpose and considering some of the crude things he whispered to her during the ceremony, she didn't feel bad about bringing him despite her relative lack of interest. She grabbed a gin and tonic from the bar and wandered away from the crowd.

"Hermione! Where are you off to?" It was Zacharias.

"Zacharias; I didn't know you were invited?" Hermione responded, unable to hold back her surprise at seeing him in this setting.

"Parvati brought me along as her date."

"Oh, that's nice. Are you having a good time?"

"I think I would have a better time with you." Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "When are you going to forgive me about your birthday?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't want to discuss this today; I'm not mad at you. I was just upset."

"I would have gotten you something, but I thought you would be upset if I did. I'm pretty terrible at reading things, I guess." Zacharias said as he pushed back his blond hair nervously. Hermione realized this was the first conversation they had outside of Azkaban or her bed in years.

"I'm really not mad, but I am trying to make my escape, so if you would excuse me."

"Ahem," Harry said behind her in a mock-Umbridge voice. "And why is the best man escaping the wedding?" Zacharias slunk away, leaving the two of them to talk.

"Draco's been so worried about me, Harry; I want him to be able to focus on you."

She had been extremely hesitant about the location of the wedding; she and Draco had discussed it at length, but she finally accepted that her two best friends would marry each other where she had been brutally tortured; at least the wedding had been outside. However, Draco was so concerned about her comfort due to her previous Manor experience that she started to feel she was monopolizing his attention, and that wouldn't do. So, after all the toasts and the first few songs, she slipped out so Draco could enjoy the evening with Harry.

Harry glanced back at his new husband, considering. "You know I'm right, Harry."

"You're not leaving though, right?" He replied in a hesitant voice.

"Just wandering around for a bit," Hermione said in a reassuring tone before squeezing her best friend's hand and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said with a goofy smile and a blush as he glanced at Draco again.

"Go on; I'll be fine."

Harry finally complied as she withdrew from the crowd. Surveying the grounds now, she could see the appeal. Away from the dark walls of the drawing room, the grounds were rather pretty. Sunlight was falling on the tops of trees, streaming through and casting shadows on the flowers and bushes below. She walked until she passed the manicured perimeter, and ended up in rolling hills. She sat in the grass, not caring for her dress, and wanting to feel the sun warm her. She matted down a patch of grass to place her drink next to her and looked over the seemingly endless stretch of green. She was perched near the top of a hill, so she could see for ages; until the top of the next hill, at least.

She pulled out a book from her bag; Extension Charms had become a bit of a habit for her so that she always had at least half a dozen books at her fingertips. As Hermione told everyone who teased her about it, it was difficult to predict what one would want to read and when. She opened  _The Rise and Fall of Wizards in Ancient Rome_. She loved to read histories that discussed events she had learned about in elementary school because she gained an entirely new perspective on what happened. Sometimes, though, it was laughable how little wizards and witches knew of the influence of Muggles; some passages concluded with "and no one know why…" when every third grader in Britain knew the story behind it.

As she read, she sipped her drink. After a while, she looked over and realized she had just as much as she had started with. She sighed; it was refilling itself. Considering that one of the core rules of magic was that food and drink could not be conjured, it must have been a rather complicated Extension Charm. In fact, the Charm would have to recognize the level of the drink and refill from the bottom. And it would have to be connected to a vessel filled with gin and tonic? But they were making so many drinks, it must have been refilling from gin  _and_ from tonic, which would mean the ratio would have to be right. Hermione's curiosity was piqued, and she resolved to ask Draco about it when he wasn't dancing with his husband, her best friend.

Hermione's thoughts were cut off by the soft rustle of the tall grass behind her; she sighed. Her solitude was compromised. She turned around to see who was afflicting her only to have her breath catch in her throat. She had seen him at the wedding of course, stiff as a board sitting two rows in front of her. His spine straightened during the vows as Hermione's hunched as she crumpled, unable to stop herself from crying at Harry's "I do." They made eye contact briefly after the vows, as he had risen from his seat faster than she was able to. He caught her teary eyes that were boring into the back of his head, unable to prevent herself from looking. His expression was typical: unreadable. The blankness made her feel more ridiculous for staring, and she clung to her burly date, which made things worse, really. They both gave toasts at the reception; surprisingly, his was rather heartfelt (though not as much as hers). He seemed sincerely pleased with his son's choice, and she was happy for Draco at the obvious improvement in their relationship. She also couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders tensed as he greeted Narcissa, and the way she crossed her legs away from his body.

"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione greeted him. The intent was neutrality, but ice seeped out of her voice instead.

He didn't say hello. "And when did I become Mr. Malfoy again?" He questioned, his face filled with amusement as he sat down next to her (not before conjuring a blanket to sit on).

Hermione shrugged. "I haven't seen you in a while. It seems appropriate."

Lucius gave her a curious look. It didn't seem appropriate to her at all; she forced herself to formalize his name to save herself from any embarrassment.

"You're missed at the reception," he commented. Ah; so that's why he was here. For a fleeting second, she had hoped he had tracked her down of her own accord. Hermione shook her head slightly at her own hopefulness; she had thought all her hope was extinguished, but apparently she had held on to some.

"Draco was so busy looking after me that I was worried he wasn't enjoying himself."

'"How  _are_  you doing, Hermione?" Lucius asked in a serious tone.

Hermione almost answered generically, but he was clearly referring to the torture. She was surprised he even remembered it. "I was glad the wedding wasn't inside. It's actually nice out here."

Lucius nodded, his gray eyes searching her own for the veracity of her statement. "Yes; I like it out here, as well."

"You can assure Draco that I'm fine."

"I am sure you can do that yourself, Hermione," he responded with a small smirk.

"Yes, I just meant, you know, when you get back to the reception."

Lucius shrugged, leaning back on his elbows in a pose that would be casual for anyone else but looked off on the Malfoy patriarch. "It's rather nice out here. I haven't been out this far since I left Azkaban on Thursday; we've been busy preparing for the wedding."

"Of course," Hermione responded awkwardly, thrown off by Lucius's candid discussion of his imprisonment.

"I apologize if mentioning Azkaban makes you feel uncomfortable."

"It doesn't; I am there quite often, after all."

"Yes, I suppose that's true."

Silence descended. Hermione wasn't sure what to do, but felt it would be rude to return to her book, so she simply took in the view.

"I've missed you." Hermione turned her head, slowly, hoping she would know what to say by the time it reached its destination of facing Lucius Malfoy. She didn't.

"Well, that's your fault, isn't it?" She snapped, breaking the veneer of politeness. She was never terribly gifted at hiding her feelings in pursuit of social grace.

"Yes."

"You essentially told me to fuck off three years ago, but now you want to chat?"

"Yes," Lucius responded laughingly.

"Why?"

"I like talking with you. I find you… quite fascinating." Hermione paused for a moment, frozen as she had the distinct impression that Lucius Malfoy was flirting with her.

"Lucius Malfoy finds me intruiging; I'm so terribly flattered," Hermione said sarcastically, lifting herself up from the grass to leave. He followed suit, standing and closing the distance between them until they were only a few inches away from one another. Hermione could feel her heart beat erratically, and she was irritated at the both of them; him, for his behavior years ago, and her, for her reaction to him regardless.

Lucius reached forward and pushed her relatively tame hair behind her ear. Hermione grabbed his arm forcefully to push him away, but ended up holding onto it a little too long. Still, she managed to fling his limb away eventually.

"Why are you flirting with me,  _Mr. Malfoy?"_

"Generally, one flirts when one is interested, as is the case with me."

"And why are you so interested in me now? Does it just take a nice dress and some make-up? Or is it all you've had to drink?"

Lucius chuckled softly. "I'm more sober than you are now, Hermione. And none of those things; don't be absurd. I've been interested for a very long time."

"Absurd?" Hermione repeated indignantly. "Then why did you send me away when I offered to visit you in Azkaban?"

"What did you want me to do; court you from prison?"

" _Court_ me?; ridiculous. I just wanted to get to know you better."

Lucius sighed. "I know. I was too proud. I thought about writing you. In fact, I did." He pulled some parchment out a pocket that would have been too small to hold it; clearly the Extension Charm on the drink had been his handiwork.

"Read it?" He was holding out the parchment, and she wanted to wrest it from him and read it immediately, but she instead stood there stubbornly, looking up at him.

"Why?"

"It explains things better than I could in front of you, perhaps. I find that my words tend to bleed together while you're around."

"What would it change?"

"Well, perhaps it might persuade you to give me another chance?"

"And what makes you think you had a chance to begin with?"

"Only that I'm apparently much better at reading people than you are, Hermione."

Hermione took the parchment from his hand gingerly, touching only the edge so as not to have to brush against Lucius's fingers. "I'll read it, but only because I'm curious. Maybe I'll tell you how I feel about it in three years."

Lucius simply smiled; a wide smile that showed off his pointy teeth. She took her leave, and he stayed back. She had a letter to read, after all.


	14. For Draco's Sake

"Hermione! Where have you been?" Draco shouted before embracing her in a tight hug. Hermione couldn't help but laugh; it was probably the most drunk she had ever seen him, but also the happiest.

"Sorry, Draco, you were fussing so much I had to leave so you could enjoy your husband."

"I was not fussing," Draco protested. "And don't think I didn't notice your exit!" Draco yelled at someone else. Hermione turned around to see Lucius standing there; he had clearly returned not too long after her.

"I did not think I was fooling you, Draco," Lucius replied, a bit exasperated. "I was just talking with Ms. Granger."

Draco laughed a little too much at that while Lucius and Hermione exchanged uncomfortable looks. Tears were coming out of his eyes as he put an arm around each of them. "You'll have to come up with a better excuse than that, Father."

* * *

When she finally arrived home for the night, it was late enough that she probably should have slept. Weddings were tiring, especially when involved in the wedding party. Instead, though, she made herself an entire pot of coffee, poured a cup, and unfolded the off-white parchment that Lucius had handed to her at the wedding.

_Hermione,_

_I am writing to apologize for my behavior last week. Though there is nothing I could say to explain such abhorrent conduct, I will attempt to lay out my reasoning, seeking only to shed light on my motivations, not to seek forgiveness that I know I do not deserve._

_Frankly, if I had no feelings for you whatsoever, I would have allowed you to visit. I want to reconnect with Draco and I know that treating his friends with kindness would be a good first step. It also flew in the face of years of breeding to treat you so rudely, when in truth I hardly know you._

_The problem is, I do have feelings for you and I do feel that I know you. Somehow, through a smattering of conversations, I feel I know you better than most, and I have certainly shown you more of myself than I am accustomed to._

_However, I do not know how to treat you, knowing how I feel about you, when I am incarcerated for the next three years, and you are a war hero, one of the most feared attorneys in Britain if not Europe, and most importantly, someone very dear to me._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius_

_P.S. Yes, I was talking to you in the courtroom._

Hermione was crying by the end of the letter, soft and silent tears that streaked the parchment and collected at her mouth so that her coffee tasted a bit salty as she sipped it. The most pressing question on her mind was:  _why the fuck didn't you send this?_

Hermione took a minute trying to talk herself out of it, but performed a quick spell to date the writing; it had been written nearly three years ago. When Lucius had said he had written her, she didn't think he meant that he had done so that long ago.

Unable to stop herself and not really wanting to, she was picking the letter apart, piece by piece, until she found herself fixating on the part where he had said "someone very dear to me." Was he "very dear" to her? No. But he could be; and that was the scary part.

* * *

"Hermione Granger," a too-serious, too-familiar voice said from behind her. She ignored the goosebumps forming on her neck under her mountain of hair before putting down her book and turning around to be nearly nose-to-nose with Lucius Malfoy. It was the opening day of a new bookshop that had opened in Diagon Alley, and Hermione was inwardly cursing herself for not realizing that this would be the type of place she would find the man she had been so dutifully avoiding for the past six weeks.

"Lucius Malfoy." His full name was safe, platonic, and she tried to focus on the way those four syllables sounded together, rather than the person standing in front of her.

"I thought I might see you here," Lucius responded, smirking slightly.

"Did you come to see me?" Hermione was thrown off-guard slightly.

Lucius shrugged in response. "You won't answer my letters, and I know you said three years, but… I was hoping you might have been joking."  _No, merely stalling._ She had ignored three more letters for him, though they were much easier to ignore than the first; they weren't nearly as vulnerable, though just as well-crafted.

"Ah. I thought perhaps you came for the books."

"An added bonus, then. So?" Hermione merely raised her eyebrow in response. "The letters. Did you have an opinion on them?"

There was a slight shake in Lucius's voice, and she couldn't help but notice how his fingers went slightly white as they curled tighter around his cane. "They were very eloquent, of course. I found that quite unsurprising."

"You think I'm eloquent, then?"

"You know that you are."

"Knowing that I am and knowing what you think are different, of course."

"Yes. Well, I agree with your assessment. You are."

"Anything else?"

"You probably should have sent the first one; we might be having a different conversation."

"And as for the conversation we're having now?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to stand firm and hoping that Lucius didn't notice how weakly she did so. Even though he gave her the letter because it was better formed than his words in person, his effect was much more difficult to ignore when he was inches away and the faint smell of clove and cigar smoke hung in the air. And the slight stumble that would occasionally happen as a result of his nerves didn't hurt, either; coupled with the fact that she was hopelessly attracted to him, she had difficulty sending him away.

"I can handle you not being interested, but shouldn't we try to be friends, at least? I know you spend the holidays with Harry and Draco, and I would like to as well. Have lunch with me? For Draco's sake?"

"Well…"

"Well?"

"For Draco's sake," Hermione responded hesitantly. They both knew that it wasn't.

Hermione followed Lucius wordlessly; he said he had a café in mind, and she accepted it without argument as arguing would require her thoughts to process much faster than they were at the moment.

They walked toward the end of Diagon Alley until the shops had mostly faded away, and instead largely empty storefronts surrounded them. Lucius held out his arm and Hermione sighed as she took it.

"Do you mind?"

"I always hate it, but it's fine." The feeling of compression from Side-Along Apparition was something Hermione had never become accustomed to; perhaps it was because this was only the third time she had allowed someone to Side-Along Apparate her. It was rare for her to be going somewhere with someone where they had made the plans or chosen the place; she nearly always planned everything, and therefore had much more experience forcing someone else into the strange feeling of expanding and being pressed into a metal box at the same time.

As they landed, Hermione's mouth hung open for just a moment before she quickly pulled it—and herself—together. Luckily, Lucius hadn't seen. She had been here only once before; it was a small village in wizarding Ireland that overlooked the water. Viktor had taken her here for their one year "anniversary"; even though they hadn't been dating officially, it was the anniversary of their first real date after the war. They had gone to the bookshop in town and spent hours there, each checking in with the other occasionally to make sure that they weren't holding the other up, only to find the other buried in books. It was the happiest memory she had with Viktor, and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. Even though she was content with her decision to end things, as she knew there was no potential for love on her end, she missed him dearly as a friend.

"What do you think?" Lucius asked; she could detect a hint of nervousness in his tone and the way his fingers folded over each other. He wanted to impress her; Lucius Malfoy wanted to impress her.

"How did you get a permit to Apparate internationally?" Hermione questioned rather than answering. She didn't want to tell him that she loved the location, that it was her favorite spot, and that she had thought often of returning. It was as though she could see the day unfolding in various paths, and she didn't want to go down the one that ended with her falling for the man next to her. His letter was sweet, and he was nervous, but he was Lucius Malfoy, and she had seen his vicious side and been burned by it already.

"Always the lawyer," he chuckled as he leaned against a railing separating them from the ocean below.

"Yes; is that a problem?"

"No, I'm quite fond of your lawyering skills. Here is my permit," Lucius pulled out a piece of parchment from his coat and handed it to her.

"This is dated a week ago. You were planning on coming here, then?"

"Yes," he sighed.

Hermione just shook her head. The bookstore opening had been planned for a month now, so he certainly could have planned ahead in order to take her there. She knew that was the most logical explanation, but she didn't question him further. She didn't really want to know if there was an alternative that was less desirable.

"So, this café you were discussing?"

Ten minutes later and the waitress brought two cups of coffee. "I have two questions," Hermione said slowly as she stared at the beverage in front of her.

"I'm sure you have more than two."

"For now, then. First, how did you find a wizarding café with coffee? And second, I thought you didn't like it?"

"Effort. That's the answer to both."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that.

* * *

"I really should get back to work." Hermione finally insisted. Lucius took care of the check while she used the restroom, and they left the café soon afterward. The café was an odd little building: various shades of brown and green adorned the outside, making it blend in strangely with the tree next to it. It was the only shop down a narrow alleyway that led to the main stretch of the village.

"When can I see you again?"

"Well, you know, I think we cleared the air."

"Cleared the air?"

"Yes, you remember: for Draco's sake. Have a lovely day, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione responded as she Apparated, laughing as she intentionally used his last name.

* * *

Hermione had a well-established Sunday morning routine. She woke up slowly, made coffee, fed Crookshanks, and read the paper. As any other Sunday, she made her coffee, fed her beloved cat, and sat down with the  _Prophet._ It was good that she didn't have any coffee in her mouth when she opened the paper, or she might have spat it out. Splashed across the front page was her lunch with Lucius, which she had thought was innocent enough, but the photo managed to make it look damning alongside a caption of "An Unlikely Romance?". It was of them both laughing and staring at one another. Although nothing was untoward, the emotion was splashed all across her black-and-white paper, making her confront it herself.

Hermione put her head in her hands in frustration as owls began to tap on her window. First Draco and Harry's owl, quickly followed by Ginny's, George's, and then… a Ministry owl? Who would be writing to her on a Sunday from the Ministry?

_Dear Hermione,_

_As any good lawyer would know, you are likely aware that the statute of limitations has passed regarding my allegedly providing you information on jury deliberations. And, as any good blackmailer would know, you likely think that the previous observation is irrelevant as the "information" would be damaging to my career. However, I'm moving my career overseas to America where your rumors and my surname will no longer hold any weight. Don't worry, I'm not leaving yet. I'd like to see you first. Three Broomsticks, three o'clock, tomorrow._

_All the best,_

_Lucinda Lestrange_

Hermione read the letter twice before folding it until she could no longer fold it into a smaller piece. Had anyone seen her, her actions would have looked calm, but Hermione recognized her neuroticism for what it was. Her relationship with the Chief of the Wizengamot had not been smooth over the past few years. Lucinda could only want one thing: revenge.


	15. Morning Visitors

Hermione put the letter to Lucinda from the side and turned to the pile of letters from her friends, that she was sure before opening said the exact same thing: something along the lines of "please explain away that picture in the paper to put me at ease."

Before she could bring herself to break the seal on the first letter, however, a knock sounded at her door. Hermione sighed and went to open it, expecting to find a certain couple on the other side. What she didn't expect was the man from the photo in the  _Prophet_ , hair extra slick from the rain that dusted his navy robes. Always robes.

"Lucius. I wasn't expecting you." As she said it, Hermione blushed as she became more aware of herself and closed the robe loosely tied around her waist a little tighter.

"I apologize for surprising you, really, but I read this and knew Draco would be demanding answers soon. And I don't know what answers to give him. Has any possibility been extinguished?"

"Why don't you come in?" Hermione responded, never very good at responding to Lucius's more direct questioning. "I'll pour you a cup of coffee and get some clothes on."

"That sounds lovely. I apologize again for dropping by unannounced."

"No need," Hermione responded softly, pouring him coffee into an old brown mug that she had taken from her parents'. He reached out to grab it as she was setting it down, and their fingers brushed for a moment. "I'll be right back." She did return quickly, simply slipping on a pair of jeans and a lavender sweater before joining Lucius at her kitchen table.

"What's this?" Lucius inquired, tapping the outside of her letter from Lucinda. It was still folded into one-sixteenths, so that it wasn't flat anymore, but instead stood up oddly on its edge.

"Just another thing to deal with," Hermione responded dismissively. "As for this…" Hermione trailed off, fixated with the captured moment between her and Lucius once more.

"There's nothing damning in the photograph," Lucius spoke quietly. "And nothing has happened." Hermione could taste the  _yet_  on his tongue, and found that she wanted him to add it, but he didn't. "So it's easily explained away, if that's what you want."

Hermione sighed. She was still frustrated with him, and didn't trust him, not really. But she couldn't say that she wanted to explain it away because then she would be lying to her friends, especially because she had to admit to herself that she intended to pursue something. "What if that's not what I want? What would you tell Draco?" Hermione knew that Lucius would not risk telling Draco that he was interested in his best friend unless he was sincere.

"You're testing me," Lucius responded evenly, his posture slightly guarded.

"Yes, I suppose that's true.

"Well, I would normally be irritated, but I suppose it's fair enough. I would like to figure out what to tell Draco together, and talk to him… together."

"Together?" Hermione hadn't even considered that, mostly because she couldn't picture sitting down with Draco and Lucius in one room. It was as though they occupied different universes; Hermione's interactions with Lucius had been entirely private, as though they were living in their own world. She didn't know if she was ready to bring anyone else in. But what choice did she have? The  _Prophet_ had chosen for her.

"It's too soon," Hermione rationalized, slowly putting her hand through her tangled hair and looking down at that table. As she did so, long fingers clasped around her own. She looked up to find Lucius inches away; he had crossed round the table and stood right above her. The mugs had been moved. Hermione swallowed nervously. "We don't even know if—"

But Lucius cut her off by pushing her face toward his and kissing her, hard. She responded by trying to pull him closer, but it just ended up with him awkwardly hunching over her seat. In response, he pulled her up and spun her around so she was pushed against her yellow walls. One hand was still caught in her hair as the other fell seamlessly to her side, his thumb rubbing small circles above her hip bone.

They were interrupted by a fierce knocking at the door. "Fuck," Hermione cursed. "It's probably Draco now."

"Hermione!" It was Harry's voice.

"Merlin, I need more coffee," Hermione muttered.

"I can grab the door while you make some. I would offer but I have no idea how those contraptions work."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Alright. I suppose they will find out you're here in about twelve seconds, anyway. It's a small apartment."

"I like it."

"Thanks," Hermione whispered, rising and tending to the coffee while Lucius went to complete the more odious task. She tried to fix her hair while he collected her friends, but knew it was probably to no avail. At least she had the presence of mind earlier to get out of her robe and into actual clothing.

"Finally!" She heard Harry shout.

It was followed by "bloody hell!" from Harry and "you have to be fucking kidding me" from Draco.

"Hermione's making coffee," Lucius said simply. Hermione felt eyes piercing in the back of her head as she ignored them.

_"_ _Hermione's making coffee—_ that's one phrase I would have bet good money would have never come out of your mouth, Father." Draco responded sulkily.

Everyone sat in silence as Hermione finished up, and she poured Harry and Draco's mugs on the counter, placing it in front of them wordlessly before topping off her and Lucius's cups.

"So…" Harry filled the silence.

Hermione looked at Lucius helplessly; what were they going to say?  _"Oh, your father and I have been interested in each other for a few years, but he blew me off and we just snogged a few feet from where you're standing."_

"Please stop," Draco interrupted her thought process.

"Stop what?" Hermione asked.

"Looking at each other like that; Merlin, I can see enough of that in the papers."

"So…" Harry repeated, arms crossed as though it would cover all his fidgeting.

"So it's true?" Draco demanded, looking straight at Hermione and ignoring Lucius.

"Is what true, Draco? The  _Prophet_ was a little light on absolutely any specifics or corroboration."

"Hermione, I'm not asking for evidence. Just as your friend, what is going on with you two?"

"Godric, I don't know, but we just kissed."  _Great. Exactly what I decided not to say._

Draco shook his head as if to clear it, and then turned to the other guilty party. "Father?"

"Well," Lucius said, clearing his throat but also smiling slightly, which only made Hermione chuckle. "That's true. But, beyond  _that_ , nothing else has happened. I came over shortly before you did to discuss what was happening between Hermione and me and what we would like to tell both of you, but we didn't come to a conclusion."

"Because you were too busy snogging?" Draco cut in, the only one at the table not amused whatsoever, although Harry was making a valiant effort to hold it back. After Draco's deadpanned question, though, Harry couldn't hold it back any longer. "Harry!" Draco exclaimed, irritated.

"I'm sorry, terribly so. It's a very serious situation. I just"—Harry shook with silent laughter for a few moments—"Hermione and your dad. Oh Godric, it's just too funny."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione cut in dryly. "I appreciate the support."

"But it's not serious, right?" Harry asked offhand.

Lucius looked at Hermione and she shrugged. What was there to say to that question? Things were certainly not serious; things weren't even a thing, not really. But there was that overwhelming hope that it could be serious, and it was so foreign to her that Hermione probably couldn't have shaken it off even if she wanted to.

"Father?" Draco pressed, seemingly unnerved by the silence.

"Hermione?" Lucius asked, adding: "You know how I feel." And she did.

"Things aren't serious," Hermione said quietly, earning a collective breath of relief from her married friends while Lucius held his. "But they could be." And that earned her something better than relief: a genuine grin on the most unlikely of candidates, Lucius Malfoy. And she smiled back, unable to suppress it as she felt her friend's eyes boring into each side of her.

"Hermione, could we talk in private?" Draco asked.

"Alright, let's go into my bedroom," Hermione agreed. They each sat on her bed, her against the headboard and Draco at the foot, where the paisley comforter dipped over the edge of the queen bed.

"Hermione, what in Merlin's name are you thinking?"

"I know, Draco. I know what you're going to say because if you think I haven't thought about it, you're wrong. You're going to say he's too old, we fought on opposite sides of the war, he hates muggleborns, and he especially hate me. Oh, and he's divorced. Did I hit everything?"

"Yes."

"I don't care how old he is, Draco. I know we fought on different sides of the war and we've discussed his views on muggleborns. He's changed." Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione ignored him and continued. "I'm serious, Draco. I can tell. And I don't think he would want to have this conversation with you if he weren't serious."

"Hermione…"

"Right?"

"Well, I agree it's a good sign. I don't exactly know what his normal dating protocol is, though, considering that I've never seen him with anyone besides Mother."

"I know. It must be weird for you."

"Really weird. But that's not the point; the point is you can do better. Didn't you break up with Viktor because you wanted to find someone you could have a serious future with? That you could fall in love with? Father is stiff and traditional and—"

"And I've never felt this way before."

"What?" Draco asked, dumbfounded and apparently out of steam.

Hermione shrugged, toying with a loose thread on her bed to avoid looking at her best friend. "I feel like I  _could_  fall in love with him, if that makes any sense."

"Oh."

"But if it's weird for you—" Hermione said, looking up at Draco, unable to read him and finding it unnerving.

"Weird for me… that's an understatement. But if you think he can make you happy, then I won't stand in the way."

"It's not like we're getting married, Draco, I just want to date him, you know?"

"Okay," Draco responded, sounding unconvinced.

"What does that mean?"

"You could have easily brushed this off and dated in secret if it were a fling. The fact that you both seem way too happy and… into each other, I don't think you just want to date him. That sounds like a gross understatement if I've ever heard one."

"Well…"

"Look, whatever it is, I'm behind you, okay? I'll figure it out."

"Seriously?"

Draco shrugged, looking rather grumpy, and Hermione jumped across the bed and hugged him. He patted her awkwardly on her back, clearly unwilling to fully engage in a hug.

"I guess we should probably go back out there," Draco sighed.

They went into the kitchen to find Lucius and Harry's chairs, which, though they had been next to each other, had mysteriously drifted apart.

"So I think we'll head out," Draco spoke slowly, nodding at his counterpart. Harry jumped up from his chair as though it were made of fire.

"Alright, then. Thanks for the coffee, Hermione, and we will see… you… both… soon," Harry choked out, shaking his head and following behind his husband out of the apartment.

"That went well," Lucius observed. "Have you had breakfast yet?"


	16. Happy Anniversary

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Lucius asked after Draco and Harry left the apartment.

"Well, no, actually," Hermione replied, suddenly a bit nervous now that they were alone together.

"What would you like?"

"Well, all I have here is coffee and cookie dough, so…" Hermione paused, looking away, slightly embarrassed at her admission that the only food item she had was cookie dough. "I have a lot of takeaway," she added, as though that made it any better.

"Shall we go out?"

"Out?" Hermione repeated disbelievingly. "You want to go out? Where people can see us?"

"Let's give them something to talk about," Lucius said casually, a small smirk playing up his face. "I don't want to look like we're in hiding. Unless you would prefer to keep it to just Draco and Harry knowing, of course."

"Well, I didn't say that," Hermione said, processing. It was already a shock for her that Lucius wanted his son to know, let alone  _everyone_. "You won't mind being seen with a muggleborn?"

"Hermione, I thought we had discussed this," Lucius responded, exasperated.

"We have discussed your personal feelings, not your feelings regarding your persona."

"I would love nothing more than to go out to breakfast. Would you like to come?"

"Well, yes."

"Excellent."

"I should probably change."

"Why?"

"Well, I look a little ratty in these jeans and this sweater, and you're wearing robes. Do you seriously mean to tell me that, in addition to being seen with a member of the Golden Trio other than your son-in-law, you would be fine going out with me in muggle clothes?"

"I happen to like those—jeans? right?—very much," Lucius replied suggestively.

Hermione blushed a bit. "Alright, let's go then. Where to?"

"Jade's?"

"You mean the busiest brunch place in Diagon Alley?"

"I can get us in."

"That wasn't what I was commenting on, but let's go. It's probably good to get the publicity out of the way."

"Is it the worst thing being photographed with me?" Lucius teased.

"That's not what I meant. You know I think you're… very handsome," Hermione mumbled the last two words as she set wards on her apartment.

"Well, I know now."

Hermione gave Lucius the best annoyed look she could muster, and they flooed to Diagon Alley, tumbling out of the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione went through first, greeted by the barkeep, Tom. "Ms. Granger, it's so good to see you. Crazy business in the paper today—" Tom stopped talking as Lucius gracefully stepped out of the fireplace, brushing ash off himself. Then he wrapped his arm possessively around Hermione, just far enough above her Muggle jeans to be appropriate.

"It's good to see you, too, Tom," Hermione said awkwardly, breaking the silence that had descended in the pub; she didn't look but felt eyes trained on her.

"Mr. Malfoy," Tom greeted Lucius, trying and failing to keep the shock off his face.

"Hello, Tom. We really must be going."

"Of—course—" Tom stammered out as Hermione and Lucius made their way through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea.

"Well that went well," Hermione muttered.

"Yes, I thought so, too," Lucius said brightly. She looked over to glare at him, but he had such a huge smile on his face that she failed miserably and ended up returning his expression. Hermione had the urge to kiss him, but didn't want to stoke the fire  _that_ much.

"Bloody hell," a very familiar voice exclaimed. She reluctantly turned away from her date to address the redhead.

"Hi, George. You remember Lucius?"

"Yes, though I think the last time I saw you, you may have been wearing some sort of mask. Hmm, I wonder why…"

"George!" Hermione hissed.

"Seriously, Hermione?" George asked. "Is this because of that sex dream you told us about? That was over three years ago."

"I don't know what dream you're talking about…" Hermione choked out, bright red. She refused to look at Lucius.

George played clueless. "Remember, you were telling Ginny and me about it? I think you said it was a love dream, now that I think of it."

"Ginny said that. I did  _not_ say that!"

"Ha! So you do remember it," George exclaimed, now laughing nearly as much as he had been when he first told her about the dream.

"Well, you got over your anger quickly," Hermione seethed.

"Teasing you has priority," George explained. "I'll talk to you about this this week. Drinks: you, Ginny, and me. There's no way in hell you're getting out of it, so don't even try."

"See you this week, George. We're going to go get breakfast now."

"At noon? Too busy with morning sex to have it at a normal time?"

Lucius looked like he was about to open his mouth, but Hermione slipped an arm around him and started walking away, shouting behind her, "goodbye, George!"

"Have a lovely day, Hermione! Bye,  _Lucius."_

Lucius did not respond. Hermione looked up at him, and he seemed to be having conflicting emotions. "You had a sex dream about me three years ago?"

"We're not discussing this," Hermione responded, vehemently shaking her head.

"Yes, we are."

"We're here," Hermione responded curtly.

Lucius chuckled, and then led them inside. "Hello, may I have a table for two, please?"

"The wait is—" the hostess started to say and then she looked up. Hermione was impressed by the speed with which she buried her look of shock. "Right this way, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger."

"Thank you," Lucius responded graciously.

They were seated by the window in the corner, away from the crowd but not secluded enough to stop the open stares they were receiving.

"Why did we decide to do this, again?" Hermione asked glumly.

"To get it over with."

Hermione nodded. "Like a band-aid."

"Like a what?" Lucius asked, confused.

"Nevermind."

"What is a band-aid?"

"It's a muggle method of covering wounds."

"What do you mean, covering wounds?"

"Muggles can't heal wounds magically, so they have to cover them so they don't get infected."

Lucius looked horrified by this information, but suppressed it. "So, this dream…"

"I think I'm going to have the blueberry pancakes," Hermione said idly, ignoring the man across the table from her.

"Okay, we can discuss this later."

"I don't think so," Hermione said in a sing-song voice.

* * *

The following day, Hermione unfortunately had to return to work. Although she normally loved her job, today would be especially unpleasant: she had her meeting with Lucinda to spend the day dreading.

"Soooo…" Pansy greeted her when she came in, wagging her eyebrows in an absurd fashion. "You and Lucius."

"We don't have time for this," Hermione responded curtly. "Yes, we're dating, okay? Now I need you to look up everything you can find on Lucinda Lestrange. The more damning, the better. Especially if it's personal."

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

Hermione pulled the worn parchment out of her bag and handed it to Pansy.

"Great Salazar," Pansy muttered under her breath. "What does she have on you?" Hermione felt a surge of appreciation for her coworker, who already had a parchment and quill out, ready to take notes.

"I have no idea," Hermione responded honestly. "We worked together—well, I'm stretching the definition of 'together'—to reduce Lucius's sentence. But all she has is that I blackmailed her, which doesn't seem too serious."

"She must have something else," Pansy said.

"Well, I don't know what it is, so I think we need to focus on the offensive. Whatever she brings up, I'll just have to think on my feet the best we can, and then I'll have you help with damage control after the meeting.

"Noted."

"You'll contact your… contact?" Hermione asked quietly. Hermione knew Pansy had someone for these sorts of jobs, although she preferred to know as little as possible.

Pansy nodded. "Yes, we'll both be on it."

"Excellent," Hermione responded before slipping into her office. She had avoided opening the  _Prophet_ thus far. With a heavy sigh, she opened the paper that had been nothing been irritating as of late. The article was as insulting as she expected, dragging Lucius's name through the mud as it went through his history as a Death Eater and his recent stint in Azkaban. As for her, it speculated what her motives were for representing him. Luckily, it stopped at speculation. Well, it was probably best that they waited as long as they did to date.

* * *

"Nothing?" Hermione asked, deflated.

Pansy shook her head sympathetically. "Maybe she doesn't have anything," Pansy offered, though didn't sound like she believed it herself.

"Yeah, maybe," Hermione tried to sound hopeful, but failed as she grabbed her cloak and left the office, headed for the Three Broomsticks.

Lucinda looked the same as ever: long red nails sculpted to a point that looked like they could gouge your eyes out if you got too close.

"Hermione." The same sickly sweet voice.

"Lucinda," Hermione greeted her evenly, taking her seat across from her without taking her eyes off the witch.

"So nice of you to see me before I leave." Oh, she was already gloating and she hadn't even dropped the bomb.

"Anything for a friend."

"I took the liberty of ordering your favorite: firewhisky."

"You know me well."

"Yes, I do." Lucinda spoke the three words with triumph. "After your little article came out yesterday morning, I had a very interesting conversation with one of our mutual friends."

"I wasn't aware we had mutual friends."

"I know you weren't. Zacharias Smith."

"Zach—Zacharias is our mutual friend?"

Lucinda shrugged. "I would call him more of a… pet, but labels aren't important."

"A pet? You two have been sleeping together?" Lucinda just winked. "For how long?"

"Oh, on and off for about four or five years."

At a complete loss for words, Hermione took her firewhisky in a quick shot instead.

"I'll get you another one of those." Hermione nodded numbly. Her and Lucinda had been sleeping with the same person for over two years.  _Oh, Merlin._

Lucinda came back with the drinks. "So I understand congratulations are in order. I understand this is something like your three-and-a-half-year anniversary with Lucius?"

"Excuse me?"

"Zacharias tells me that's about how long you two have been dating, all those visits while he was serving the rest of his sentence, that time he caught you two when you were representing him…"

"That's a lie. We've just started dating."

"I'm sure everyone will believe that you two  _just_ started dating, and you're already this serious?" Lucinda asked, gesturing to the paper and clicking her tongue. "You know it's best to keep it believable," she added, throwing Hermione's words from three years previous back in her face.

"So that's your angle. You're going to destroy my professional reputation with this lie that I was dating Lucius while I was representing him."

"Not just while you were representing him. While you were blackmailing me and getting Fudge sacked. A woman will do anything for the one she loves, won't she?"

Hermione saw the picture she was painting, and it wasn't pretty. Worse, she had no response. "When are you going public?"

"Zacharias is meeting with the  _Prophet_ tomorrow. I expect to get an owl asking for an interview shortly thereafter."

Then Hermione remembered something. "You never learn, Lucinda. I've been recording this conversation—"

"Tsk, tsk. No, you haven't. I've disabled all electronic devices. It's a handy spell I learned immediately after the last debacle."

_Fuck._ Hermione knew exactly what spell she was talking about. "Well, I suppose this meeting is over."

"I guess so."

"Why tell me? Why not just let me see it in the paper?"

"Because I know you'll spend all night trying to think of a way out of it, and you won't find any. It makes things a little sweeter."

"Have a nice evening, Lucinda," Hermione said curtly, not wanting to admit the truth of her rival's words.


	17. A Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the last chapter (although I have decided to do an epilogue after this, so you're not quite done with me). Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, or followed along. I really appreciate all the support that you all have given me. :)

Hermione didn't bother going back to the office after her meeting with Lucinda. Because the woman was right: she was utterly trapped. Instead, she flooed straight to Draco and Harry's.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Draco greeted her as she popped out of his fireplace and plopped on the couch next to him. "A warning might have been nice. I could have been naked."

"Don't put those images in my head, Draco. I have enough to deal with. As my friend, you are required to drink with me. I assume you have some nice scotch?"

"You're demanding the nice scotch? What are we celebrating?"

"Not celebrating. As of tomorrow, I have probably no future as a lawyer, so this is more of a drowning of sorrows. It seems less depressing with high quality alcohol."

"Hermione, what happened?"

"I need to be seriously drunk before we discuss it."

Draco responded by rising and pouring two glasses of scotch before handing her one. "Let's drink, then."

They clinked their glasses together and did just that.

* * *

 

"So, are you drunk enough?" Draco asked as he poured her a fourth glass of scotch less than an hour after her first.

"I guess so," Hermione responded in a whiny voice. "Remember how I reduced your father's sentence by about thirty-seven years?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar."

"Well, I might have used some unsavory methods to do so."

"Hermione…"

"I just blackmailed someone. But she crossed me first."

Draco sighed. "And now she's blackmailing you?" Hermione nodded as she pouted. "What does she have?"

"Nothing real, but she has fucking Zacharias Smith willing to lie for her that he caught me with Lucius while I represented him, and that we've been seeing each other the whole time. What rubbish. That combined with the blackmailing and the fact that we're seeing each other now… Utterly screwed, and not the way I like."

"Now you're putting images into my head that I don't want."

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled.

"Well, I have some good news."

"No, you don't," Hermione responded glumly.

"Yes, I do. Remember I told you I know Lucinda from family parties? "

"You said you didn't have anything on her."

Draco scoffed. "That's not exactly what I said, although true. But I bet that dear old dad has something usable."

"She's moving away to America. I have blackmail on her, too, but it needs to be something really awful that will follow her."

"If he knows anything, it will probably be personal."

Hermione vehemently shook her head. "I don't want to ask him. This is my mess."

"Your mess? You can't be serious? You're only in this mess because you reduced his sentence and are now dating him."

"I don't want to ask him. We just started dating."

"Oh look, Harry's home from work. I'm going to go say hello, okay?"

"What? Bring him in here!" Hermione demanded; she was too sleepy to get up from the couch to greet him herself. She heard whispering in the hallway, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

Harry came back in alone and took Draco's seat on the couch. "Where's Draco?"

"He's nearly as drunk as you. I told him to go shower; you both smell awful."

"Well I'm not moving," Hermione declared.

"Suit yourself," Harry responded laughingly.

"Did Draco tell you what's going on?"

"Yes. Are you doing alright?"

"No. We slept with the same person."

"Who?"

"Lucinda Lestrange."

"You slept with Lucinda Lestrange?"

"No, Harry. Lucinda and I both slept with the same person."

"Ohhh. Who is it?"

"No, I'm not telling you," Hermione said in a muffled tone as she buried her face in one of the cushions.

"Okay. You don't have to."

* * *

 

"Hermione?" Someone was shaking her. Why were they doing that?

"Leave me alone," she groaned.

"Hermione, I have something for you." It was Draco. She opened her eyes just enough to see the blur in front of her.

"Draco, you're back from your shower. But you're wearing the same clothes."

"Come on, here's some sober up potion."

"I don't want to be sober. No, no. I want to sleep."

"You're on your own," Draco said to someone else, and then she heard footsteps leaving.

"Hermione, I'm quite cross with you." Lucius's voice. She must have been dreaming.

"Are you going to punish me?"

There came that rich laugh that she rarely heard, and then someone was shaking her awake again. "I'm having a pleasant dream. Leave me alone."

"Not a dream, Hermione."

She finally turned over to see Lucius leaning over her. "Oh, Merlin," she said, but she was laughing. And then she came to. "Did Draco send for you?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to kill him."

"I don't know why  _you_ didn't send for me."

"Because this is my problem, not yours."

"That's what Draco told me, but I didn't think you would be thick enough to say something like that."

"Excuse me?"

"Let's get a couple things straightened out, Hermione. First, this problem is my problem because I got you into this. Second, your problem is my problem whether you like it or not; we're a couple."

Hermione squinted at him. "We're a couple? We didn't decide that. You don't get to decide things."

"Can you please take this sober up potion if you want to have this conversation?"

"Fine." Hermione downed it, the spinning in her head immediately replaced by a headache.

"And here's some hangover tonic."

"Fine," she repeated, drinking that as well.

"Are you still mad?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I already told you why. Now I don't want you interfering."

"I thought you might say that."

"Well, you thought right."

"That's why I already interfered."

"Excuse me?" Hermione shot up, now sitting up very straight.

"Lucinda cleared out of her apartment about half an hour ago. She's in America and Mr. Smith won't be able to attend his interview considering that he's behind bars for tampering with official documents."

"Official documents?"

"He doctored the visitors' logs."

"What about Lucinda?"

"I don't have anything illegal on her I can prove."

Hermione nodded. "That's fair."

"Do I get a thank you?"

"No. I did not ask you to do this."

"And I didn't ask you to blackmail the Chief of the Wizengamot to reduce my sentence."

"Well, that was different."

"Yes, it was." Hermione turned her head to look at him. "We weren't together then. Why did you do it?"

"Well, you were my client."

"I don't think that falls under the job description."

Hermione just shrugged and pretended to inspect her chewed-up nails. "Hermione?"

"What do you want me to say? I was crazy about you and you rejected me?"

"Hermione, I didn't reject you."

"I thought we were having an honest conversation," Hermione spat out bitterly.

"I wasn't trying to reject you. I couldn't date you from jail. It didn't seem fair or right."

"You said in your letter that you didn't know how to treat me. What does that mean?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes. If you really want to be a  _couple_ with my  _agreement,_ we need to put this behind us."

"It's exceedingly simple. I was too proud. You are way too good for me, even out of jail. And in it? There was no possibility of me trying to win you."

"Win me? You are so old-fashioned."

"Well, I am a little older than you," Lucius said in a teasing tone.

"No teasing. I am still mad at you."

"Are you sure?" Lucius asked, lightly brushing against her neck with his lips.  _When did he get so close?_

"Yes, I'm very upset with you. You went behind my back."

"Hmm… like this?" Lucius chuckled, literally wrapping his hand behind her back, under her button-up shirt.

"What do you think you're doing? I thought you were old-fashioned."

"I didn't say that, dear. You did."

* * *

 

Hermione went to her office the next morning only slightly worse for wear. She had the same clothes on from the night before, though of course they were transfigured enough that she hoped no one would notice.

"Nice hemline," Pansy commented innocently as Hermione strolled into the office. Hermione looked down to see that, though she had transfigured her skirt from the previous day into a dark burgundy, she had neglected the black stitching in the hemline.

"It's a new trend," Hermione replied halfheartedly.

"Of course it is. Enough about your outfit. What happened at the meeting yesterday? I was expecting an owl or something, but instead all I got was this vague blurb in the paper."

"Let me see." Hermione grabbed the paper without waiting for response, which earned her an annoyed huff from Pansy. She scanned the front page. At the bottom was a short piece on Lucinda's retirement and how she capped off her career with the arrest of Zacharias. How the hell did she get Zacharias to stay quiet about her involvement?

"You're right, it is quite vague, isn't it?"

"Yes. Care to fill me in?"

"I don't even know the full story myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I met her yesterday. A friend had some information on her, but I don't know what it was. She's out of the country now, though."

"A friend helped?" Pansy asked skeptically, eyes straying back to Hermione's hemline.

Hermione contemplated that for a moment; were they friends? "Yes. A good friend of mine."

Pansy raised her eyebrows and Hermione disappeared into her office, digging into her latest case.

* * *

 

The following evening Hermione went out for her traditional drinks with George and Ginny. It had been months since they had done so, which Hermione now knew was due to Ginny's relationship with Viktor. Because she had missed them so much, Hermione didn't even put up a fight when they forcibly dragged her out of her office. "You know you could owl, right? We could make plans."

"What's the fun in that?" George asked, keeping a straight face. Hermione rolled her eyes in response.

They slid into their normal booth at Three Broomsticks, skipping the bars in London and heading straight for the inevitable destination.

"It's been a while," Hermione commented, unable to keep a slight annoyance out of her voice.

"Are you still irritated with me?" Ginny sighed.

"You did shut me out for months instead of just telling me you're dating Viktor," Hermione pointed out. "So yes, it will take me a bit to get over it."

"I thought you would be upset. Who was to know you've been too busy pining over Lucius Malfoy for three years."

"I have not been pining." Scoffs were the response.

"And I'm not exactly happy with you, either, George. I feel like I can't say anything to you without you putting it on a billboard."

"What's a billboard?"

"Nevermind. Without you telling everyone."

"I was just having a bit of fun. It was between that and attacking him right there."

"Those are not viable options."

Ginny cut in. "What did you do, George?"

"I may have mentioned Hermione's dream."

Ginny looked confused. "Dream?"

"You probably don't remember. Hermione had a sex dream about Lucius years ago."

"Oh,  _that_ dream. I remember; I just didn't contemplate that you might have told Hermione's new boyfriend about the sex dream she had years ago."

"You underestimate me, Ginny. And Hermione, I'm sorry, okay? Forgive me?"

"I will forgive you if you accept my relationship."

"Relationship? It's serious?" Hermione became aware that several other witches and wizards were attempting to subtly eavesdrop on the conversation, but the sudden quiet was a giveaway.

"Yes," Hermione enunciated, "it is. Quite."

"Oh," was all George could choke out.

"I'm very happy for you, Hermione. You seem good." Ginny sounded sincere, and gave her a weak smile to let her know she was at least trying to be sincere in her words.

"Thanks, Ginny."

"Me too," George said nearly inaudibly.

Hermione just smiled in response, a slightly goofy smile that rarely came out.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the epilogue. Sorry for the long wait. I've been awful at updating in general the last few months, but I think I was also just hesitant to end this. I've loved this story, and I won't say I'm done with it forever (as I've been toying with the idea of a sequel) but for now, at least. Thank you to all of you for your support, which has been wonderful. Readers and reviewers have kept me going with this one, and are probably part of the reason that this ended up being much longer than I originally intended. :)

_Click, clack, click, clack. Squeak._

Hermione groaned. Ever since she let Ginny borrow her favorite pair of heels, they had never been quite right, sometimes making odd sounds when she walked. Hermione straightened her face, realizing she still had a glum expression on as she walked up to the new man guarding the entrance of Azkaban.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted him. Her throat was dry, which was silly, really. It just felt so surreal having someone who wasn't Zacharias greet her. She knew that's why she hadn't been by Azkaban in months, having Pansy go in her stead more than she should have.

"Ms. Granger," the wizard greeted her neutrally, nodding his head to gesture that she should follow. He didn't ask who she was seeing, but she supposed he had seen her request and subsequent appointment.

"Right in here, Ms. Granger."

"Thanks," she mumbled, pushing open the door.

Hermione stood for a moment before taking a seat across from Zacharias Smith. He looked more beaten up by prison than Lucius had been. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin sallow and his pupils dilated.

"Hermione. It's about damn time you visited."

"I don't owe you anything, Zacharias," she replied scornfully as she sat across from him, pushing her chair back to increase the distance between them. She felt her hatred for him blossom as she saw him in person; why had she come, again?

He had the same question. "What did I do to deserve this honor, then?"

"I need answers."

Zacharias scoffed. "And why should I tell you anything?"

"You owe me," Hermione tried, hating herself for feeling a touch of emotion. The betrayal still stung. No, they had never been in love—but intimacy is intimacy, and she thought they at least had friendship. Not enough where he would save her, but enough where he wouldn't be the one to feed her the proverbial wolves.

She had been wrong, of course.

Zacharias ignored her. She felt a twinge of disappointment, but brushed it off.

Hermione leaned forward, lifting the calm mask off her face to reveal the rage bubbling underneath.

"How about that I've put silencing charms on the room?"

"And why should I care about that?" Zacharias said in a bored tone. Too bored, and the intimacy was in her favor again, because she knew that the elevated haughtiness was a façade for when he was uncomfortable.

"Why are you here, Zacharias?"

Now the discomfort morphed into a broken mirror, reflecting her own fury.

"Because of you, Granger."

Hermione laughed, hoping to rattle him.

"It's because you tried to frame me. Have you heard the muggle story about the boy who cried wolf?"

"No."

"I won't bother telling you, then. Suffice it to say that as long as I leave no scars"—her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, leaning forward so that she was almost breathing on him, noticing his hands rattle in his restraints as she did so—"no one will believe you when you tell them what I've done to you."

He swallowed. "But what of Veritaserum? Legilimency?" His eyes glanced toward the door as though it would conjure a person on the other side of it.

"You worked here, Zacharias. You know that we're above that sort of  _barbarism_."

"But if I request it—"

"It takes a skilled artisan to brew such a potion, and even greater skill to perfect the art of Legilimency. Do you think the Ministry would waste either on you, a broken man and a known liar, to prove something against me?"

If possible, his skin lost more color and his hands settled under his handcuffs.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know  _why."_

Zacharias winced. "You'll have to be more specific."

"I want to know why you screwed me in both senses of the term."

Zacharias donned a sad smile that looked so wrong on his face. It struck Hermione that it was the first time she had ever seen him without any pretenses. Even during sex, he was always trying to maintain control. Only now she could see he never had any.

"The reason for the first type should be obvious."

"It's not. Nothing is obvious when—maybe I didn't trust you completely, but I trusted you." The admission wasn't something she was prepared to make, but she felt it tumble out anyway. She berated herself for such truthfulness when Zacharias had managed to say nothing, even though she held all the cards.

"I'm sorry."

"And why the hell should I accept your apology?" The rage built up in her anew, lashing out at its target.

"It wasn't a plan, if that's what you think. Yes, Lucinda and I have been sleeping together for a while." Zacharias shrugged at that. "It was mostly for sex. There may have been a raise in it for me, too. I'm not happy about it."

"But you slept with her for  _years._ "

"The first couple years were fun. And then," Zacharias looked pained. "Why do you want to hear this, again?"

"I have to know."

"Why? Everything worked out for you."

Hermione found herself saying more than she wanted to, again: "it's nagging at me, Smith." He winced at the last name.

"I tried to break it off when we—" Hermione nodded, not needing him to explain further what they were doing; she was there, after all. "But I couldn't. I had shared too much, and had slept with her for my promotion."

Hermione nodded sadly. The story sounded familiar.

"And you know how the story ends. I sold you out to save myself. I didn't work very well."

"Okay," Hermione said in response, biting her lip.

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated, nodding.

"Will you answer one question for me."

Hermione shot him a grim smile in response. "Not if the answer contains anything that could even be twisted to be incriminating."

"Are you happy with him?"

She searched Zacharias's face and found no foul play, not that her instinct had served her well when it came to the man across from her.

Still, she answered.

"Yes."

* * *

"How did it go?" Lucius asked in lieu of announcing his presence. She was sitting in her—well, their library (she used it more often)—reading the files for a new case. As he gave her an expectant eyebrow raise, she reluctantly arranged the papers sprawled out in front of her on the table instead with a few spells.

"You were right," Hermione confessed as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I'm glad I went. Though he couldn't tell me what you blackmailed Lucinda with, which I'm still dying to know."

"Interesting choice of words," Lucius noted with a laugh, "as you know it would kill me to tell you."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes. I know." Lucius had explained to her that the only way to rid themselves of Lucinda was for him to perform an Unbreakable Vow, with each agreeing to leave the other alone. He couldn't tell anyone—including, to her endless annoyance, Hermione—what he had on Lucinda.

"I'm sorry I can't give you what you want," Lucius whispered in her ear as he nibbled on the edge of the lobe.

"Hmm… I think you can," Hermione teased back.

"I was referring to my Unbreakable Vow, darling. Where did your mind stray?"

"Perhaps somewhere around here?" Hermione asked, swiveling her chair around, proceeding to slowly trace her finger from the tip of Lucius's nose, ghosting over his mouth and pulling it open slightly. He watched with increasingly hungry eyes as she continued her descent down his chest, undoing buttons as she slowly revealed his chest, stroking his burning skin with her other hand as she went.

He leaned down further and caught her mouth in a kiss as he gripped her waist, pushing her against her desk so that her hair started to spill over the forgotten papers.

She reached for the waistband of trousers, but she barely touched them before Lucius tossed her onto her previous workspace as though she weighed nothing at all, her legs hanging off the edge for only a moment before she wrapped them around her partner, bringing him somehow closer against her.

"I love you," he murmured, so quiet against the skin of her neck that she could barely hear him.

She pulled his face toward her own, looking him in the eyes as she replied, "I love you."

_It wasn't the first time they had exchanged the sentiment, and,_  Hermione thought as she smiled against his kiss,  _it very likely wouldn't be the last._

* * *

Hermione was still flushed, slightly crushed by the man who had collapsed on top of her, but not caring at all, when a little  _pop_  told her a house elf (paid, of course) was now in the room.

"Now is not a good time," Hermione said gently, slightly muffled.

The house elf apologized profusely and Hermione sighed while Lucius chuckled.

"This happens a little too often," Hermione muttered.

"Let me make this clear: are you, Hermione Granger, complaining about a house elf?"

"Complaining is a strong word…"

"Is it?"

Hermione sighed. "No."

They both held a straight face for a moment before laughing, close enough that she could feel the vibrations in his ribcage.

* * *

Although they had been together for several months, it felt surreal walking up to Harry and Draco's home together, Lucius carrying presents and Hermione carrying wine. Lucius had been confused the first time Hermione brought wine over to Harry and Draco's, but Hermione explained it was something her parents always did when she was young, and something she continued, despite it being a bit odd in the wizarding world for a guest to bring anything.

And so he didn't say anything that day when she grabbed a couple bottles and put them in her tiny purse. He simply grabbed the presents and walked out to the apparition point wordlessly.

As they approached the ornate door, Hermione paused slightly before knocking. She couldn't help but reflect on how much had changed in one year. Last Christmas, it had been just the three of them, with Lucius still in Azkaban and the two of them barely on speaking terms.

* * *

She found Draco out on the back porch. It wasn't difficult as she knew from various parties that it was his favorite hiding spot; apparently that's where he hid at the Manor as a child, as well. "Draco," she greeted him, drawing out his name. "Why are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding so much as getting away for a moment."

"And why is that?" Hermione asked, taking the seat adjacent from his that had the best view of the stars.

"It's almost the end of the year, and it's been a very eventful one. Father got out of Azkaban, Harry and I got married, and then you two. It's just a lot."

Hermione hesitated, picking at a hangnail on her index finger with her thumb. "Is it still weird for you?" Hermione and Draco had talked about her and Lucius's relationship extensively, but more so when they had first started dating. Draco reiterated that he would support her decision, and that was that. But now that they had been dating for a while, Hermione wanted more than support from her best friend. She wanted him to agree with her choice, but it was a lot to ask given the circumstances.

"It's strange—not you and Father, I mean, but the situation. It's as though there are two sides of me, the one that's your friend who sees how content and obviously in love you are, and then the side that is my father's son and can't get past that image of him, if that makes sense."

"Sort of."

"I think that's why when I saw the picture of you two in the paper, there was this part of me that thought—aha! I knew it." Hermione laughed and Draco smirked in response. "But another part of me couldn't believe that you could possibly be interested in Father."

"That was a while ago, though," Hermione said in a slightly sad voice. "Is that still how you feel?"

Draco reached out and grabbed her hand. "Only sometimes. You know I'm really happy for you."

"I know you're happy for me," Hermione confirmed with a nod. "But I want you to be happy. Period."

"You have a way with words, Granger." And then, in a more serious tone—"Sincerely, I wouldn't want either of you with anyone else. But our relationship is still healing, that's all. And as time passes, I'll adjust to the idea that you're my best friend and dating my father. But just because it's unusual doesn't mean it's not wonderful, right?"

Hermione smiled, responding with a hug instead of words.

Hermione first felt Lucius's presence before she saw him, hanging back slightly toward the back door. She could tell that he was hesitant to come closer, but didn't feel that it was her place to beckon him. It wasn't she that he hesitated on behalf of, after all.

"Come join us, Father," Draco said after a beat, hand gesturing to the empty cushion next to Hermione on the couch the two friends occupied.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Lucius replied as he slipped into his seat. His voice was slightly frosty, which Hermione recognized as his cover for nerves.

"No. We were just talking about you." Lucius stiffened. The motion was slight enough that Hermione would not have noticed it before, but she did now and sure that his son did, as well.

"Only bad things, certainly," Draco continued, his straight face breaking and widening out into a smile.

The tension broke as father and son visibly relaxed. Soon after, Harry came to join them, lightly complaining about being left alone.

Conversation buzzed around Hermione as she leaned against Lucius, his arms wrapping around her easily, the warmth of his embrace matching the contentment she felt in that moment.


End file.
